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GRADING OF THE 

JSitjemtie Utteratute ^eriejs. 

(A Descriptive List of all the numbers is given at the end of this book.) 

Numbers 47, 48, 49, 50, and 59 are suitable for pupils of the Second 
and Third Reader grades. The following numbers, given in the order 
of their simplicity, have been found well adapted to the tastes and capa- 
bilities of pupils of the Fourth Reader grade : 29, 10, 7, 8, 9, 17, 18, 22, 
23, 13, 14, 46, II, 21, 44, 28, 36, 24, 19, 20, 32, 37, 31, F, G, and H. 
The other numbers of the Series are suitable for pupils of the Fifth 
and Sixth Reader grades and for the study of literature. 

The table given below shows at a glance the choice of eleven repre- 
sentative cities. 



' 


6 

1 




^0 


ti • 

. 


, ti 

y 


ll 






si 

So 


Chicago, lU. 


K 


47,48 


29,50 


7, 8, 9, 


",37, 23 


6, 28, 15 


I, 4, 18 


Athens, Pa. 




47,48 


49,50 


17, 18, 22, 
23 


13, 14, 2 


4,6 


I, 51, 52 


Birmingham, 

Ala. 
Detroit, Mich. 




47 


48 


22,23 


II 


1,27,4 


10, S3 




47,48 


49,50 


17, 18, 22, 
23 


13, 14, 2 


28, 4, 6 


1,51,52 


San Francisco, 
Cal. 




47,48 


29, 49, so 


7,8,9 


II, 22, 23 


6,15 


*Master- 
pieces 


Springfield, 
Mass. 






47,48 


49, 50, 13, 
14 


17, 18, 28 


7, 8, 9, 22, 
23 


1,2,53 


Cambridge, 
Mass. 




K 


47, 48, 49, 
50 




10, ir, 29 


17, 18 


7, 8, 9, 22, 

23, 28, 36, 

*Master. 
pieces 


Portsmouth, 
N. H." 


K 


47, 48, 
49, 50' 


29, 10 


17, 18, F 


7, 8, 9, 28, 
", 13, 14 


19, 20, 4, 
41 


I, 2, 53, 
51,52 


Milwaukee, 
Wis. 


K 


47,48 




22,23 


2, 17, 18 




*Master- 
pieces 


Paterson, 
N.J. 


K 


47,48 


49 


50 


10, 29, 7, 
8,9 


17,18 


51, 52 
*Master- 
pieces 


Saginaw, 
Mich. 


K 


47,48 


49,50 


17, 18, 29 


13, 14, 2, 
22,23 


I, 7, 8, 9, 

28, 37, 51, 

52 


5, 4. iS> 
54,6 



♦ Masterpieces of American Literature (469 pages, $1.00, net) contains material 
drawn principally from the Riverside Literature Series. It was published at the re- 
quest of the Boston School Committee for the use of the eighth-grade pupils of Boston. 



FACSIMILE, REDUCED, OF "THE SPECTATOR." 
No. 405, SATURDAY, JUNE 14, 1712. 

The type page ot the original is 91/3 inches high, 6j^ inches 
wide ; the paper itself is 1 21/4 inches high, 8 inches wide. 



Numb. CCCCV. 



The SPECTATOR. 






Horn. 



Saturday^ June 14.. 1711. 



I Am very forry to find, by the Opera Billsfor 
this Day, that we are Jikely to (ofa ihegrcai- 
eit Performer in Dramatick Muficif that fs 
now Jivir)g, or that perhaps e»er appeared up- 
on a Stage. 1 need not acquaint my Reader, that I 
■m fpeaking of 6ignior Nicolini. TTie Town is 
highly obliged to that Excellent Artift, for having 
ftewn ns the Italian Mofick in its Perfedion, at 
well as for that generous Approbation be lately 
gave to an Opera of our own Coantry, in which 
the GGmpofer endeavoured to do Joftice to the Beau- 
ly of the Words, by following that Noblo Exam- 
ple, which has been fet him by the gtcateft For- 
feign Maftcrs in that Art. 

r could hcsnily wilh there was the fime Appli- 
cation and Endeaveurs to cultivate and improve 
our Church-Mulick, as have bem lately bvftowed 
on that of ihe Stage. Our Compofers have one 
very great Incitement to it : they are fure to meet 
witn Escelient Words, and, at the fame time a 
wonderful Variety of them. There is no PafHon 
that IS pfit finely eiprcflcd in thofe parts of the 
Infpired Writing, which are proper for Divine Soncs 
and Anthems. 

There is a certain Coldnefs and rndi.Terence in 
li.e Phrafe^ of onr European Languages, when they 
are compared with the Oriental Forms of Speech • 
aii<i It happens very luckily, that the Hehrevj \6v.,m[ 
run into the £»?//> Tongue with a particular Grace 
■aiid Brauty. Our Language has received innumc- 
raWe Elegancies and Improvements, "from that In- 
fuiion 0/ Jiebraifnts, which are derived to it out 
<•! the Poetical Palfages in Holy Writ. They give 
a ho/ce and Energy to our Expreffions. warm and 
animate ojr Language, and convey our Thoughts 
irf more ardent and intenfe Phrafes, than any that 
f) re to he met' wieh in our own Tongue f here is 
I'.n.cihing fo pathctick in this kindof niflion, that 
II olicn lets the Mind in a Klame, and rtiakes our 
H';i.rt. burn within us. How cold and dead dots a 
l^rajti apfcar, Ihwis compofcdin the luoft Elegant 



and Polite Forms of Speech, which are natnral to 
oar Tongtie, wljcn it ir not heightened by that So- 
lemnity of Phrafe, which may be drawn from the Sa- 
cred Writings. It hss been faid by forne of the 
Ancients, that if the Gods were to talk with Men, 
they would certainly fpeak in Plato's Stile ; but I 
think we may fay, wjih Jaftice, that when Mor- 
tal* converfe with their Creator, they cannot do it 
in fo proper a Stile as lo that of the Holy Scrip- 
tures. 

If any one would judge of the Beauties of Poetry 
that are to be met with in the Divine Wtiiings, and 
examinehow kindly theZ/cAr^tt-Minners of Speech 
mix and incorporate with the Engiip Language ; after 
having perufed the Book of Pfalms. let him reatl a 
literal Tranflation of Horace or VmcUr, He wiir 
find in thefe two laft fuch an Ablurdity and Confu- 
lion of Stile with fuch a Comparative Poverty of 
Imagination, as will makel\iin very fciifible of what 
I have'^bcen here advancing. 

Since we have therefore fuch a Treafury of 
Words. fo-VautifuLin fhcinrclves,and foproperfor 
the Airs of Muhck, f cannot but wonder that Per- 
fotis of Diaiiidion fr.ould give fo little Attention 
and Encouragement to that kind of Malick, which 
would have its Foundations in Rcafon, and which 
would imptovc dur Virtue in proportion as it raifed 
our Delight. ThePalTions that arc excited by ordi- 
nary Conipofifions, generally flow ftom fuch filly 
and .ibfurdO.caiions, that a Man is alhamed to rc- 
flca upon ihcni fcrioufly ; but the Fear, the Love, 
the Sorrow, the Indignation that are awakened in 
the A^ind by Hynms and Anthems, make the Heart 
better, and proceed from (uch Caufcs a^ arc alto- 
geihcr rcaHiiiablc and praife-worthy. Plcafore and 
Duty go hund in hand, and the grcatet our Satif- 
Jaction IS, the greater is our Religion. 

Mufick among ihofe who were Riled the chofen 
Pc-c.pe was a KeliKious Art. "f he Songs of W 
whith we have rctfon to believe were in high re^ 

.pttIC 



pute iinong the Courts of the Eaftern Manarchs, 
were nothiug elfe bftt PaUn!. and Pieces of {'oetry 
th;i! adored or cclebiated. the; Supreme B.-siiK- The 
grcsi^ft Conqueror in" this Holy Nation, after the 
riia -iicr of the old (iredan Ly ricks, «Jid not only 
coinpcjc the Words of his Divine Odes, but gene- 
r»llT f« rticm to Mulick himfelf ; After which, 
bis Works, tho' they were coafecrated to the Ta- 
bernacle, became the National Entertainment, as 
wcH as the Devotion of Ws People, 

The fifft Original of the Drama was a Rcltgioui 
Worftiip confiding only of a Chorus, which was no- 
thing elfe but an Hymn to a Deity. As Luxury and Vo- 
luptuoufnefs wevailed over Innocence and Religion, 
this form of Worfiiip degenerated into Tragedies; 
In which however the Chorus fo far remembered' 
its firft Office, ss to brand every thing that was vi- 
cio«s, aai tecomtaeud evtrj thing that was lauda- 
ble, to intercede with Heaven for the Innocent, and 
to implore its Vengeance on the Criminal. 

Uvmrr and HefioJ intimate to us how this Art 
Ibould be applied, when they rep|relcjit tlieMufesas 
farroanding Juflter^ and warbling their Hymns a- 
bout his Ihrone. I might (hew, from innu.nerabie 
PafTages in Ancient Writers, not only that Vocal 

Sidloarumeatal Mofick were made ofc of in ihcir 
eli^Ioas Worfliip, but that their moft favourite 
PivcrCons Were &\\ifi wifli Songs aD4 Hymns to 
th^- reipftStivc Deitjcfc Had wc frequent Eruer- 
t«iiVQeats of this Nfatur* ftoiongus, they wou'doot 
4 UttJc purifie and exalt our Paflioas, give our 
TJb(»i|gljts.a proper T«ira, wd cherifli iho^. Divine 
I»jp«lfps ia tKcSoul, ivWch every one feels thathai 
BOt ftifl«d them by fcnfual apd immodetatc Plea- 
fores. 

. Mttf'«ki wheuthuf applied, r»ife$ noble Hints in 
UjeJVJiod pf thcHever, atvd fills it vyitij gieatCon-> 
ctptiotts. It ftjenjtheoj Devotion, aud adTances 
Cr«ife into Rapsurc. it lengthi^os out every a£^ of 
Worfljip, and produces more lasting 8odp<rr:njnent 
liDfvefl^ns in tr.s Mind, than thofe which accoiupanjt 
•nytratjCtflt Form of Words that are uttered in the 
9rdinaty]Vletliod of Religious Worftip. 

AOrsKTiSEMKIfrS. 

For the Benefit of the Box-Kcepcrs. 

At the Ocfire of fcvci-al Ladies of Qiialiry. 

R.y: Hor Majcftv'» Cqmpany of Copnrilians, 

AT rijpTSeatre RoyjMr Orury-I^rvs, or; Tuefda)' 
B»»i, beinj On lj!i\ Djj o( Junt- v>/i!! beRcniv^d. t & in riy 
etilcd, ThfJ' yi«! Cntw: Of, ibt MifyBii^pin. Wit^ f«,er^ Ei- 
teiBrtnmcnii ot Stni'ii-ig ind Corni'c-Dincinir proptr to rbt Pljy. To 
Wllii*,*iU Ke «Wtd, A Frf«5 of ^t,e- fiSk .Hily, c'iWi. Thr T.jgf- 
Ctaeli.. SjfHrt W«jafty-» CjovtmU.. np ?fc»t,r« ar« i<i be «fai;iU<d 
bchmd iftc Jtwaci.. AiJ oo T«»rM»y new i»iU he pMfentrd,. P;«y 
ollMtli! lodito tmattot, or liie Cooa.S irf Mr«ifu bf (Ac 8p»- 
tiai*, fo: iJk. Beatit ol Mr, Bidierfliff ^<S Mr. >»cWmjii: 

AT tho Queen's Theatre in the ifajr-Market, this 
vree liBtttairf biaifi the i^nh t>iy of jane. SignoT (~9va- 
lieja N>colinoC«iiD.Wi will iikc h'J ittre ^ Sff^Ur-i, in lt»Opir» 
0< Ai)r«ciiii». AniWy r««f ,n . i.f the Hct Velvet, !^« War«r FaiJ 
wW Phj •'.! ih» litre. 0- xet 1 1. Pic f i. Firrf Gtllery 1 1. 6 d. Vf- 
i*f Q>U(rr.t i. 6 <». Bb*u upon iJ)«3ctg« btk m dulnto-T^* i»«*m 



Ihit uay 1$ fubiiinu,' 
• The third Vol. <?( the Ihad of Homer, with Notei 

b> M^da-o Dafi.f, ilojif ttom fhe French by Mr. Brome of Su 
Jnhn'« Oilledg* lO Cimbfitjc, tnd by him compirtd with ihe 
Grceic, llliiftrated *r>ili Cuii._ NoK, TUc+lb ind J.h Vol. wiih a 
on-.olait T<bl« tr, ib( 6v« Voli. irc in ibe ttcfi, md will be Pub- 
lift) d m July ntxc by Beiojrd Linioit ir the CrcTi Key baweea the 
twaTriipU &4<c< i* Fi e^ico; : Of wbomtniy bs k>4 the fine Mif- 
cclliny lately fubllftud. 

Thi» Pay is Publi/hed, 
The whole Workj of that excellent Pradical Phy 

GcitnOi.Thumai Sydwiham, wh(i«'i njt ciy the Hittory of icuto 
Dfrtfej sretrcaid uf alter tht m..ft Kcurue Ueihodj bur jIG, the 
lafeft way of curiD{ moft Ojron^:;! O fcaf s. The fth Editioo, 17 
J. *e«hcy of th- Collcdgt Of lPhy6cat«, pr:c:y». The Wo.ki c£ 
Etmullenii abridjt'd, or a eonspleti iiyllcm ol rh}ficii, bsmg a De- 
fcriptioo of *l! IMfea/ca inHdcni to Mmi. Woraeo andCbildrru, wiih 
Iht Method ot Cur^. To wlnth i« .dieJ a Ciort accou'.t of tlje Aoi- 
n>a> Fva&ont, with an cxa^Clafrei 0/ Med^cintt. price is, Prinud 
for R. Wclliogtun at the DulpSln and Crewn ia it, Paul's Ceujch- 
yard. 

Wherea-. John Prince, John Sadler, and William 

Jodrnll. Metceia, at tfie uhcH Cfnii. in Kuigliraet CvViinc Ctrdrn. 
have rcfoivtd to leave off tne Merccra Trai^c, Thefe ai« to give No- 
nce, That at the faid Shop are to bi fold al »ery low f ricet, all 
S .riJ Kj{ the ncwcft Filhio 1 Gold aod Silver Silki, and Aiiitirct, 
Fbnr^cid tSd ptito Vrlvers. Silk Brocidcji B wcrcd ata plain .Sittina, 
Oaitiaiki, Watered T«b nA, Fkrtodinea aod M 'haira. Shijreeiu, ittC- 
D.:(», !ct(u\,i, SilkNigM Cowna. Thread Siiiini, Puplmt, Nurwidt 
Crtpca, tfillt it^d uth^ Druggeta. Hair and Wutlied Camblcta, Hair 
Shaga and .h;li>on). 

Juft i'ublilh'd,' The Second Edition of 
Creation. A Philofophical Poem. Dcmjnilratingthe 
Exiflence and Pii<v.dc'ice of •'Gwd. In StTen Booki. fly Sir Ricbvd 
Dlackmoie, Knt. M. O. and Fell iw of the College uf Phy(icini«'in 
Loodon. Printed lur S. Buccky, at tbe Dolphin in Litde anoirii 
tad J. Tio£.o, tc ihak.fpear'a Hpad overajaioS Caihetu>e fUwt 
in the Strand. 

jull Publifhcd, 
A very nr«t Pocket Edition, in two Vols, i^tno. 
o^th«W.rkf<l Mr.Thoma'O.Wky. cjniiioing, Alcibiadrs.D ^0 Car- 
lo!, Tiuiind hrie. ice>, Fii-ndlhip.n Fafhion, Souldicj t rtum- io-wd 
r«rii. Orphan, CaiuiMjr.iu 40d Venice Prefetved. Wiik oia Pi,eim <a4 
L'lveLttcri. To wftich ii adled {me Accunt ol th* Lot in* 
WxllUigr i>f iha Aticnor.. Printed forJ.Ti>nfun at Shakifprir'a Head 
ia the ntra»tf; eadgrdd by w. X3s«jr at f -.e <!n jJinPj-er Bofl,r row. 

The kctir'd Gard'jifr, or, Dialogne* betweed 

a Qra.ilcjivta and i Giuti'Dt- : Cooe>:ni.i|i ir.e Me.h0<:a ,4 Making 
Oimftiitii Iiiipr i-ing 9 F.uit t-.d Kitcbm'Gafdcn, rnjeffcer witb 
tllf Maiigr .,f P.aatjnj and Ca!tiMtl!i» Flj\irer», Flanit, Shrubi. 
snd Uno.7-9hfubs. iKCfffiry for ih« .ifirnii^jl of dard r.« 8cc. In 
vhicb ia cxplaii>'d, the Art or Making md &i(p (i .g <.i fa- 
terret, Arloun of Green*. W,H,^-Worfci, Ardwe, Colooj'.r, uU 
cKhtt tied* ta4 C'H-npar men.i ufiuiiy /aund ia the nuS Oao- 
liful Caide*ia t>f Cotmoy-aeui. The whot« eoricii'd witfi Variety 
of Piiurca bein^ 9 Tij»j,i3a-.iofl fr,m ihe Sieui Umu Liger.' T» 
Which i« 'dd d> a Drfcrption ind Plan of (Jouot T'llard'a Girden 
a Sf.ii^tftim. , The «rif.)!t Revij'd, with f»v r^l Al^traii ni end 
AACtio-a, wW.il reodLt it prdp«r f-ir our Englifl, CuSiore, Bj 

' 6ritrgt i, r.ioa, and fiary Wife. Prirt'i for /aoob Toufon 
r..3hA[r(jtji'« liad ov-r-agait>fl Catherine. Strijet in the Snnd. 

The Worfe «f Mr. Fi'Rncis BeaumtMit and Mr. 
John rittcher, an 7 Villi. Svo. adom'd t<^ith'€at!i. Plu^rch". Liyet 
in s Vt>\i. tr»ii<]«:t<( ir fcweia! hand.. .Sinta't Morajn tra. flaisd Sy 
*ir RuKi-r 1' fuirang: The Satyrt of Decinjus ,/o.nioa /uv«irfiay 
fcc. irai^ated into E.n^l ffi Verfe by Mr. Dryden and fevcral ncber 
eminent Hiiida. The Wiirka of Mr. Congreye io 3 Voilj.coniifllrjg 

, of hi. PJaya add Pi'wftia, PDflKf ott federal Occifi it* «,Titt(!Jib)> Mr. 
Prior. Parjdifeloa, a Pjcm, in i, 8oo>a,by Mr. John Milcofl. Tho 
Chr'Hl'an Htfo, flrritrfii Sy Mr. Sierle. N; J8." The three Ufl tn 
pirii.trd «Wih a near Btfver Letidf in fmjTt Pocket V .lamca : AU 
Pfintejl f..( ;»o<b^3»ordo«»Shtk<f>e*r'a heaif owr-agalnfi i^i&Wine- 
Ht^i in the SinKnl.. 

Lctt«ryand KegotlatioDJ of tbeCount D' Eftradet 

Aikibaftidor frofO LevfU tkt Fiiuree'sib to (be Suiea General of cbr 
United Prtivlncea of tbe l*W Coirttrifli : Fiom'the Teari££ata 
the I'eai iSif, Cpnfiainj chiefl» of Ori^ftal kirxtn tnS latttufA' 
font irud be I'reoci, K.r.B md ria f^'mft^ra, to the ftid Crtmt: 
with hii Anrweri. Wte.^i ire /evcrJ feaet Tt»nf»aii>rt betwero 
-be Cob f M' Rn^hri jnrf ynjntle during that ti.-n*. ' "f rsnfljted by 
Several, Hjivit. In Ttire» V- liimeb PfjDied for i>. Brown. J. Ton- 
(in, A. and J.Chorphll, J. Koeptan. R. KMolock, 0^ SttWiaa, B. 
Singer, tdAii.niAbetea. 



t4')U'D0N'. PrinrecV fof Sam. hukiey^ at tb« De^hin in Little-BnUm ; and 
Sold by A. RaUipm iw War>^ck-Utm\ where Adve?Cif€mei3t4 are takeii in,* 
as.rjifobf Gh^Cet ^im^. Pe^rutt^r, ar fte Corner of Bt»Hf^rtl.Ekiidmt[f\rs 

fife Str^i4 ^ 



SDlje Hiter^iue ^literature &erie0 



THE 

SIR ROGER DE COVERLET 
PAPERS 



y 



y^^ 



/^O 



SELECTED FROM THE SPECTATOR AND EDITED 
WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 




FE? 191894 



i^///\/^ 




HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

Boston : 4 Park Street ; New York : 11 East Seventeenth Street 
Chicago : 28 Lakeside Building 



Copyright, 1893, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 



CONTENTS. 



PAOE 

Introduction ^ii 

I. The Spectator's Account op Himself. Addison. 

No. 1. Thursday, March 1, 1710-11 13 

II. The Club. Steele. Friday, March 2, 1710-1711 . . 19 

III. Sir Roger on Men of Fine Parts. Steele. Wednes- 

day, March 7, 1710-11 29 

IV. A Meeting of the Club. Addison. Monday, April 9, 

1711 34 

V. Leonora's Library. Addison. Thursday, April 12, 

1711 38 

VI. Sir Roger at his Country House. Addison. Mon- 
day, July 2, 1711 44 

VII. The Coverley Household. Steele. Tuesday, July 

3, 1711 49 

VIII. Will Wimble. Addison. Wednesday, July 4, 1711 . 53 
IX. The Coverley Lineage. Steele. Thursday, July 5, 

1711 58 

X. The Coverley Ghost. Addison. Friday, July 6, 

1711. 62 

XI. A Sunday at Sir Roger's. Addison. Monday, July 

9, 1711 67 

XII. Sir Roger in Love. Steele. Tuesday, July 10, 1711 71 
XIII. The Coverley Economy. Steele. Wednesday, July 

11,1711 77 

[V. Bodily Exercise. Addison. Thursday, July 12, 1711 82 
lY. The Coverley Hunt. Budgell. Friday, July 13, 

1711 86 

XVI. The Coverley Witch. Addison. Saturday, July 14, 

1711 93 



VI CONTENTS. 

XVII. Sir Roger and Love-Making. Steele. Monday, July 

16, 1711 97 

XVIII. Polite and Rustic Manners. Addison. Tuesday, 

July 17, 1711 ' . 103 

XIX. The Coverley Poultry. Addison. Wednesday, 

July 18, 1711 107 

XX. Sir Roger in the Country. Addison. Friday, 

July 20, 1711 ' . 112 

XXI. Florio and Leonilla. Addison. Saturday, July 24, 

1711 117 

XXII. Sir Roger and Party Spirit. Addison. Tuesday, 

, July 24, 1711 123 

XXIII. Sir Roger and Politics. Addison. Wednesday, 

July 25, 1711 128 

XXIV. Sir Roger and the Gypsies. Addison. Monday, 

July 30, 1711 133 

XXV. The SpectatoIr ends his Visit to Coverley 

Hall. Addison. Tuesday, July 31, 1711 . . .138 
XXVI. The Spectator's Return to London. Steele. 

Wednesday, August 1, 1711 142 

XXVII. Sir Roger and Sir Andreav. Steele. Wednesday, 

September 19, 1711 147 

XXVIII. The Cries of London. Addison. Tuesday, De- 
cember 18, 1711 152 

XXIX. Sir Roger comes to Town. Addison. Tuesday, 

January 8, 1711-12 157 

XXX. Sir Roger in Westminster Abbey. Addison. 

Tuesday, March 18, 1711-12 162 

tXI. Sir Roger upon Beards. Budgell. Thursday, 

March 20, 1711-12 168 

XXXII. Sir Roger at the Play. Addison. Tuesday, 

March 25, 1712 171 

XXXIII. Will Honeycoivlb's Adventures. Budgell. Tues- 

day, April 22, 1712 176 

XXXIV. Sir Roger at Spring Garden. Addison. Tuesday, 

May 20, 1712 180 

XXXV. Death of Sir Roger de Coverley. Addison. 

Thursday, October 23, 1712 184 



INTRODUCTION. 

, The frontispiece to this volume ^ gives on a reduced 
scale the general appearance of a folio sheet which 
appeared in London on the first day of March, 1710- 
1711,2 was issued daily until December 6, 1712, when 
it was discOTitinued for tf year and a half, resumed 
June 18, 1714, and then issued three times a week 
until December 20 of the same year, when it* ceased 
altogether. A daily paper, it resembled the modern 
daily paper only in having advertisements on the 
same sheet, but these were few and unobtrusive. It 
was in effect far more comparable with the modern 
magazine, for it left news and politics and trade to 
the general newspaper, which was then beginning to 
assert itself, and occupied itself with criticism on 
books, comments on fashions and manners, and, 
what interests us most, attempts at character draw- 
ing and portraits of typical personages. 

The "Spectator" is chief among the papers of its 
class which occupied the central position in literature 
in the eighteenth century, and it holds its high place 

1 Published through the courtesy of the Lenox Library, New 
York, where the original is preserved. 

^ In the former half of the eighteenth century it was still 
common to treat the 25th of March as New Year's Day. In 
order, therefore, to indicate the precise year of the days between 
January 1 and March 25, it was customary to write the double 
year date as 1710-1711, or 171?, meaning 1710, if the reader 
observed March 25 as New Year's Day ; 1711 if he observed 
January 1. 



viii INTRODUCTION. 

because it was almost wholly the work of the two best 
writers of English of that time, Joseph Addison and 
Sir Richard Steele. Both of these men were artists 
in letters, but they had that wholesome view of life, 
also, which forbade them to treat men and manners 
merely as playthings for the imagination. The essay 
was the form of literature which they found most 
available, for it was the nearest artistic reproduction 
of social intercourse, and the London of the early 
part of the eighteenth century was the London of 
coffee - houses, of court manners extending into the 
multitude of families which allied themselves with 
the two great parties in English politics, and the 
London of a commercial class rising into dignity and 
power. 

In the essay as Addison and Steele perfected it lay 
as yet undeveloped the modern novel. The romance 
was a form of literature recognized and accepted, and 
when the writers of these essays feigned narratives of 
distressed or inquiring damsels, they often gave them 
names out of the romances as Annabella, Eucratia, 
Amaryllis, Leonora, and the like. But they fell, also, 
into the way of calling the fictitious figures Patience 
Giddy, Thomas Trusty, Sam Hopewell, and similar 
homely names, and at every stroke came nearer, also, 
to the familiar forms of actual life. It is apparent 
that the popularity of the "Spectator" from the first 
was due largely to the reality with which its authors 
invested the characters whom they impersonated. 
As soon as the Spectator himself had drawn his own 
portrait, he enlisted the interest and attention of a 
compact society of readers in London who loved gos- 
sip and social intercourse and were delighted to see 
their taste thus reflected in graceful literature. And 



INTRODUCTION. ix 

when the next day this new paper proceeded to sketch 
a group of individual men, making them, after the 
fashion of the day, a club, the possibilities which 
lay in this reproduction, as in a mirror, of contempo- 
raneous society, were so great that men and women 
everywhere received with enthusiasm this new crea- 
tion in letters, and the projectors of the paper were 
inspirited by their instantaneous success. 

It cannot be said that either Addison or Steele 
perceived the full force of what they had done. Their 
main interest was still in criticism of life, and the 
figures they so deftly manipulated were rather agree- 
able reliefs, and even occasional mouthpieces of senti- 
ment, than living persons whose fortunes were of the 
utmost importance. Still, there these creations were, 
and from time to time the artists who fashioned them 
revived them for their delight and added one touch 
of nature after another. The central figure was that 
of Sir Roger de Coverley, and the instinct of the artist 
led Addison with Steele's fine assistance to extend 
the fullest treatment upon the knight in his country 
home, rather than in the town. 

In pvirsuance of their purpose, the writers of the 
"Spectator" introduced the various members of the 
club frequently into the discussions which formed 
the topics of the several papers. The club is always 
more or less supposed. In separating, therefore, those 
papers which may be grouped under the general head 
of "The Sir Eoger de Coverley Papers," there is room 
for diverse judgment. It is easy enough to say that a 
very large number of the " Spectator " papers should be 
excluded, but the several editors who have undertaken 
to make a consistent group, beginning with the ac- 



X INTRODUCTION. 

complished W. Henry Wills, who set the example, all 
differ in their choice, though agreement will be found 
to hold for the majority of papers. Not every chap- 
ter in this book is exclusively concerned with Sir 
Roger, and there are several papers omitted in which 
his name occurs, but the selection is on the whole 
more inclusive than any that has hitherto been made. 
It should be observed that the titles given to the suc- 
cessive chapters do not occur in the "Spectator." 

The first and chief object in reading a work in pure 
literature is the enjoyment of the art; the second, 
not far removed when the work belongs to another 
generation, is the aid which it furnishes the reader 
in vivifying his imagination of historic life. A novel 
like one of Fielding's goes much further in transport- 
ing one into the eighteenth century than a history of 
the manners and customs of that period like the ser- 
viceable one by Mr. Sydney.^ The editor of this edi- 
tion of "Sir Roger de Coverley," therefore, has aimed 
in his notes mainly to enrich the reader's mind in 
particulars where the text, though not obscure, may 
be illustrated. The more one can be put when read- 
ing into the familiar attitude of the first readers of 
these papers, the more completely will one live the 
book. At the same time it has not been thought 
worth while to check the reader's interest in answer- 
ing for himself the questions which will arise. For 
this reason explanation has been avoided of words 
and terms which may be found in any comprehensive 
dictionary ; such words, for example, as Whig, Tory, 

1. England and the English in the Eighteenth Century ; Chap- 
ters in the Social History of the Times. By William Connor 
Sydney. In two volumes. London and New York : Macmil- 
lan & Co. 1891. 



INTRODUCTION. xi 

put, smoke, fagots in a regiment, quorum, need not 
long puzzle a student who has access to such a dic- 
tionary. Now and then curiosity has been appealed 
to in reference to variations in the English of the 
eighteenth century and that of to-day. It has not 
been thought necessary to give meagre facts and dates 
regarding the great historic names which occur in 
slight mention. 

The text used is that furnished by Mr. Henry 
Morley in his convenient edition of the " Specta- 
tor," 1 and for the interest of the student the last '' spec- 
ulation " is given exactly as first printed as regards 
spelling, capitalization, and italics. For the purpose 
of still further removing the reader from the present, 
it might have been desirable to print the entire book 
in this style; but a specimen only is given lest the 
unaccustomed reader should grow confused in his 
own usage. 

The main incidents in the lives of Addison and 
Steele are given in the chronological table which fol- 
lows, but the reader who desires to become more inti- 
mate with these persons should read Thackeray's 
"The English Humorists." The same great writer's 
novel of "Henry Esmond" will put him more fully 
in sympathy with the spirit of the eighteenth century. 

1. The Spectator. A new edition, reproducing the original 
text both as first issued and as corrected by its authors. With 
Introduction, Notes, and Index, by Henry Morley. In three 
volumes. London : George Routledge & Sous. 1883. 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF THE LIVES OF 
ADDISON AND STEELE. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 

Bom at Milston, near Aniesbury, in Wiltshire, May 1, 1672. 

Educated in schools at Amesbiiry, Salisbury, and Lichfield, to which 
last place the family removed when his father, the Rev. Lancelot 
Addison, became Dean of the Cathedral in 16So. 

Thence he is sent to the Charterhouse School in London, where 
Steele was a scholar at the same time, and enters Queen's College, 
Oxford, in 1687. 

Becomes Fellow of Magdalen College in 1698. 

Receives a pension from the government, the Whig party being dom- 
inant, travels on the Continent to qualify himself for diplomatic 
service, and returns to England in 1703. 

Publishes Remarks on Several Parts of Italy, 1705. 

Appointed Under Secretary of State, 1706. 

Elected Member of Parliament, 1708. 

Contributes to Steele's paper. The 'I'atler, 1709. 

Begins The Spectator, 1710-11. 

Writes the tragedy of Cato, 1713. 

Contributes to Steele's The Guardian, 1713. 

Marries the Countess of Warwick, August 3, 1716. , 

Dies June 17, 1719. 

RICHARD STEELE. 

Born in Dublin, Ireland, son of an Irish attorney, March, 1671-72. 

Is sent to the Charterhouse School, 1684. 

Enters Christchurch, Oxford, March, 1690. 

Leaves Oxford and enlists as a private soldier, 1694. 

Becomes Captain Steele. 1700. 

Writes and publishes The Christian Hero, 1701. 

Produces on the stage The Funeral, or Grief a la Mode, 1701. 

Marries Mrs. Margaret Stretch, a widow, spring of 1705. 

Is made editor of the official Gazette, 1706. 

Mrs. Steele dies, December, 1706. 

Marries Marv Scurlock, September 9, 1707. 

Publishes the first number of The Tatler, April 12, 1709. 

Is made Commissioner of Stamps, January, 1710. 

Writes for The Spectator. 1711-12. 

Begins The Guardian, March 12, 1713. 

Enters Parliament, 1713. 

Becomes patentee of Drury Lane Theatre, 1715. 

Is knighted by George L, 1715. 

Produces his most successful comedy. The Conscious Lovers, 1722. '^ 

Dies at Carmarthen, September 1, 1729. [ 



SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 



I. THE SPECTATOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 

Nonfumum exfulgore^ sed exfumo dare lucem 
Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat^ 

HoKACE, Ars Poetica, 143, 144. 

I HAVE observed that a reader seldom peruses a 
book with pleasure 'till he knows whether the writer 
of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric 
disposition, married or a bachelor, with other j)artic- 
ulars of the like nature, that conduce very much to 
the right understanding of an author. ^ To gratify 
this curiosity, which is so natural to a reader, I design 
this paper and my next as^prefatory discourses to my 
following writings, and shall give some account in 

1. His thouglit it is, not smoke from flame, 
But out of smoke a steadfast light to bring, 
That in the light bright wonders he may frame. 

2. In his Notes on Walter Savage Landor, De Quincey (iv. 
407), commenting on this passage, says : " No reader cares about 
an author's person before reading his book ; it is after reading 
it, and supposing the book to reveal something of the writer's 
moral nature, as modifying his intellect ; it is for his fun, his 
fancy, his sadness, possibly his craziness, that any reader cares 
about seeing the author in person. Afflicted with the very saty- 
riasis of curiosity, no man ever wished to see the author of a 
Ready Reckoner, or of the Agistment Tithe, or on the Present 
Deplorable Dry Rot in Potatoes" 



14 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

them of the several ^ persons that are engaged in this 
work. As the chief trouble of comjiiling, digesting, 
and correcting, will fall to my share, I must do myself 
the justice to open the work with my own history. ^ 

I was born to a small hereditary estate, which, 
according to the tradition of the village where it lies, 
was bounded by the same hedges and ditches in Wil- 
liam the Conqueror's time that it is at present, and 
has been delivered down from father to son whole and 
entire,^ without the loss or acquisition of a single 
field or meadow, during the space of six hundred 
years. There runs a story in the family, that [before 
I was born] my mother dreamt that she was [to bring 
forth] a judge; whether this might proceed from a 
lawsuit which was then depending in the family, or 
my father's being a justice of the peace, I cannot 
determine; for I am not so vain as to think it pre- 
saged any dignity that I should arrive at in my fu- 
ture life, though that was the interpretation which 
the neighborhood put upon it. The gravity of my 
behavior at my very first appearance in the world 
seemed to favor my mother's dream; for, as she has 
often told me, I threw away my rattle before I was 
two months old, and would not make use of my coral 
till they had taken away the bells from it. 

1. Note that "several" is used in its specific meaning not of 
many, but of separate persons. 

2. Addison is of course constructing an imaginary character 
and giving him a consistent history, but as Macaulay remarks in 
his essay on The Life and Writings of Addison, " It is not easy to 
doubt that the portrait was meant to be in some features a like- 
ness of the painter." Especially may this be said of the humor- 
ously exaggerated characteristic of shyness. 

3. Whole = with all its divisions ; entire = with each division 
perfect. 



THE SPECTATOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 15 

As for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing 
in it remarkable, I shall pass it over in silence. I 
find, that, dnring my nonage, I had the reputation 
of a very sullen youth, but was always a favorite of 
my schoolmaster, who used to say, that my imrta 
ware solid^ and ivoidd wear ivell. I had not been 
long at the University, before I distinguished myself 
by a most profound silence ; for, during the space of 
eight years, excepting in the public exercises of the 
college, I scarce littered the quantity of an hundred 
words; and indeed do not remember that I ever 
spoke three sentences together in my whole life. 
Whilst I was in this learned body, I applied myself 
with so much diligence to my studies, that there are 
very few celebrated books, either in the learned or 
modern tongues, which I am not acquainted with. 

Upon the death of my father, I was resolved to 
travel into foreign countries, and therefore left the 
University with the character of an odd unaccount- 
able fellow, that had a great deal of learning, if I 
would but show it. An insatiable thirst after know- 
ledge carried me into all the countries of Europe in 
which there was anything new or strange to be seen ; 
nay, to such a degree was my curiosity raised, that 
having read the controversies ^ of some great men 
concerning the antiquities of Egypt, I made a voyage 
to Grand Cairo, on purpose to take the measure of a 
pyramid : and, as soon as I had set myself right in 
that particular, returned to my native country with 
great satisfaction. 

1. In Addison's time, John Greaves, Professor of Astronomy 
at Oxford, had led in the discussion regarding the measurement 
of the pyramids, as in our day Piazzi Smyth, whose work, Our 
Inheritance in the Great Pyramid, still excites interest and debate. 



16 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY, 

I have passed my latter years in this city, where I 
am frequently seen in most public places, though 
there are not above half a dozen of my select friends 
that know me : of whom my next paper shall give a 
more particular account. There is no place of gen- 
eral resort wherein I do not often make my appear- 
ance ; sometimes I am seen thrusting jny head into a 
romid of politicians at Will's,^ and listening with 
great attention to the narratives that are made in 
those little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke 
a pipe at Child' s,^ and while I seem attentive to no- 
thing but the Postman,,'^ overhear the conversation of 
every table in the room. I appear on Sunday nights 
at St. James's coffee-house,* and sometimes join the 
little committee of politics in the inner room,^ as one 
who comes there to hear and improve. My face is 
likewise very well known at the Grecian,^ the Cocoa 
Tree," and in the theatres both of Drury Lane and 

1. "The father of the modern club." Will's Coffee House 
stood oil the northwest corner of Russell and Bow Streets, Co- 
vent Garden. It took its name from the proprietor, William 
Urvvin, and derived its greatest reputation from the poet Dry- 
den's resort to it. 

2. In St. Paul's churchyard. From its neighborhood to the 
cathedral. Doctor's Commons, the College of Physicians, and the 
Royal Society, it was frequented by clergy, lawyers, physicians, 
and men of science. 

3. The Postman, a journal edited by a French Protestant, M. 
Fouvive, was marked by the prominence it gave to foreign cor- 
respondence. 

4. The headquarters of Whig politicians. 

5. For a more particular account of what went on in the inner 
room, see Tlie Spectator, No. 403. 

6. So called from being kept by a Greek named Constantine. 
Its nearness to the Temple led to its being the rendezvous of 
men of learning. 

7. The Tor}^ headquarters. 



THE SPECTATOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF, 17 

the Hay Market. I have been taken for a merchant 
upon the Exchange for above these ten years, and 
sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stock- 
jobbers at Jonathan's.^ In short, wherever I see a 
cluster of people, I always mix with them, though I 
never open my lips but in my own club. 

Thus I live in the world rather as a spectator of 
mankind than as one of the species ; by which means 
I have made myself a speculative statesman, soldier, 
merchant, and artisan, without ever meddling with 
any practical part in life. I am very well versed in 
the theory of a husband or a father, and can dis- 
cern the errors in the economy, ^ business, and diver- 
sion of others, better than those who are engaged in 
them: as standers-by discover blots,^ which are apt 
to escape those who are in the game. I never espoused 
any party with violence, and am resolved to observe 
an exact neutrality between the Whigs and Tories, 
unless I shall be forced to declare myself by the hostil- 
ities of either side. In short, I have acted in all the 
pptrts of my life as a looker-on, which is the charac- 
ter I intend to preserve in this paper. 

I have given the reader just so much of my history 
and character, as to let him see I am not altogether 
unqualified for the business I have undertaken. As 
for other particulars in my life and adventures, I 
shall insert them in following papers, as I shall see 

1. Jonathan's coffee-house was the resort of the more ques- 
tionable sort of stock-jobbers. 

2. In The Spectator as originally printed, the spelling of this 
word OBconomy emphasized its meaning as derived from the 
Greek, the " management of the house." 

3. In the game of backgammon, "to make a blot" was to 
leave a piece exposed. 



18 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

occasion. In the mean time, when I consider how 
much I have seen, read, and heard, I begin to blame 
my own taciturnity; and since I have neither time 
nor inclination to communicate the fulness of my 
heart in speech, I am resolved to do it in writing, 
and to print myself out, if possible, before I die. I 
have been often told by my friends, that it is pity 
so many useful discoveries which I have made should 
be in the possession of a silent man. For this reason, 
therefore, I shall publish a sheet full of thouglits 
every morning, for the benefit of ni}^ contemporaries ; 
and if I can any way contribute to the diversion or 
improvement of the country in which I live, I shall 
leave it when I am summoned out of it, with the 
secret satisfaction of thinking that I have not lived 
in vain. 

There are three very material points which I have 
not spoken to ^ in this paper, and which, for several 
important reasons, I must keep to m^^self, at least for 
some time : I mean, an account of my name, my age, 
and my lodgings. I must confess I would gratify 
my reader in anything that is reasonable ; but as for 
these three particulars, though I am sensible they 
might tend very much to the embellishment of my 
paper, I cannot yet come to a resolution of communi- 
cating them to the public. They would indeed draw 
me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed for 
many years, and expose me in public places to several 
salutes and civilities, which have been always very 
disagreeable to me ; for the greatest pain I can suffer 
is the being talked to, and being stared at. It is for 

1. This phrase lingers in forensic terms, and "he speaks to 
the point," thongh used now to express pertinence of speech, 
once had the meaning of the text. 



THE CLUB. 19 

this reason likewise that I keep my complexion and 
dress as very great secrets ; though it is not impossi- 
ble but I may make discoveries of both in the prog- 
ress of the work I have undertaken. 

After having been thus particular upon myself, I 
shall in to-morrow's paper give an account of those 
gentlemen who are concerned with me in this work ; 
for, as I have before intimated, a plan of it is laid 
and concerted (as all other matters of imj)ortance are) 
in a club. However, as my friends have engaged me 
to stand in the front, those who have a mind to corre- 
spond with me may direct their letters to the Spec- 
tator, at Mr. Buckley's in Little Britain. ^ For I 
must further acquaint the reader, that though our 
club meets only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have 
appointed a committee to sit every night, for the in- 
spection of all such papers as may contribute to the 
advancement of the public weal. 



II. THE CLUB. 

Ast alii sex, 
Et plures, uno conclamant ore.'^ 

Juvenal, Satire vii. 167. 

f The first of our society is a gentleman of Worces- 
tershire, of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir 

1. In the Daily Courant of March 1, 1711, the first daily news- 
paper, published by Buckley, appeared this advertisement : " This 
day is published a Paper entitled The Spectator at the Dol- 
phin, in Little Britain, and sold by A. Baldwin in Warwick 
Lane." 

2. Six others at least, 

And more, call out together with a single. voice. 



20 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

Roger de Coverley.^ His great-grandfatlier was in- 
ventor of that famous country-dance which is called 
after hiin.^ All who know that shire are very well 
acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. 
He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behav- 
ior, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, 
and are contradictions to the manners of the world 
only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. How- 
ever, this humor creates him no enemies, for he does 
nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being 
unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the 
readier and more capable to please and oblige all who 
know him. When he is in town, he lives in Soho 

1. It is an idle curiosity which seeks to identify the imaginary 
characters of these papers with actual persons. Even if it could 
be known to a certainty that this or that English knight or coun- 
try gentleman sat for his portrait, the characters which bear the 
names given by Steele and Addison are more real to us than the 
obscure men who suggested them. But there is strong reason 
for believing that the authors of these characters took particular 
pains to avoid confounding them with known men. Steele had 
once got himself into trouble by too close copies of living men, 
and Addison in the last number of The Spectator for this year, 
when the popularity of the several figures had set the gossips 
discussing their origin, takes pains to say : " I have shown in 
a former paper, with how much care I have avoided all such 
thoughts as are loose, obscene, or immoral ; and I believe my 
reader w^ould still think the better of me, if he knew the pains 
I am at in qualifying what I write after such a manner, that 
nothing may be interpreted as aimed at private persons." In a 
word, these writers did what every self-respecting novelist to- 
day does ; they studied human nature, but respected the mdi- 
vidual person. 

2. It was a clever turn to name the principal character after 
a popular dance of the day, and then gravely derive the dance 
from an ancestor of the hero, Steele says he was indebted to 
Swift for this. 



THE CLUB. 21 

Square.^ It is said lie keeps himself a bachelor by 
reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful 
widow of the next county to him. Before this disap- 
pointment, Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentle- 
man, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and 
Sir George Etherege,^ fought a duel upon his first 
coming to town, and kicked Bully Dawson ^ in a j^ub- 
lic coffee-house for calling him "youngster." But 
being ill used by the above mentioned widow, he was 
very serious for a year and a half ; and though, his 
temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, 
he grew careless of himself, and never dressed after- 
wards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet of 
the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his 
repulse, which, in his merry humors, he tells us, has 
been in and out* twelve times since he first wore it. 
He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and 
hearty ; keeps a good house in both town and coun- 
try ; a great lover of mankind ; but there is such a 

1. The square had been built upon about forty years previous, 
but the district bearing the name had been so called as early as 
1632. The origin of the name is referred eonjecturally to the 
cry used by hunters when calling off the dogs from the hare ; a 
conjecture which is partly supported by the name Dogfields 
applied to a neighboring spot. In the early part of the seven- 
teenth century it was hunting-ground. It was still a fashionable 
quarter in 1711, though Sir Roger's residence is referred to an 
earlier period when its glory was less dimmed. 

2. The Earl of Rochester and Sir George Etherege were wits 
and courtiers in the dissolute times of Charles II. 

3. Bully Dawson was a swaggerer of the time who copied the 
morals but not the wit of the court, and belonged to a lower 
social grade. As Rochester died in 1680 and Etherege in 1689, 
it is allowable to guess that Sir Roger when resenting Bully 
Dawson's contemptuous epithet was under twenty-five. 

4. That is, of the fashion. 



22 SIR ROGER DE COVER LEY. 

mirthful cast in his behavior, that he is rather beloved 
than esteemed. 1 His tenants grow rich, his servants 
look satisfied, all the young women profess love to 
him, and the young men are glad of his company: 
when he comes into a house he calls the servants by 
their names, and talks all the way up stairs to a visit. 
I must not omit that Sir Roger is a justice of the 
quorum; that he fills the chair at a quarter-session 
with great abilities; and, three months ago, gained 
universal applause by explaining a passage in the 
Game Act.^ 

The gentleman next in esteem and authority among 
us is another bachelor, who is a member of the Inner 
Temple;^ a man of great probity, wit, and under- 
standing; but he has chosen his place of residence 
rather to obey the direction of an old humorsome 
father, than in pursuit of his own inclinations. He 
was placed there to study the laws of the land, and 
is the most learned of any of the house in those of 
the stage. Aristotle and Longinus are much better 
understood by him than Littleton or Coke.* The 

1. The notion of " esteemed " as here used supposes a cold 
approval. 

2. The Game Act ably expounded by Sir Roger was probably 
that of Charles II. which defined what persons were privileged 
to keep guns and bows and have hunting-grounds ; among these 
were landowners worth at least a hundred pounds a year, and 
the sous and heirs-apparent of esquires or of persons of higher 
degree. 

3. There were four Inns of Court or societies of lawyers in 
London at this time, the Inner Temple, the Middle Temple, 
Lincoln's Inn, and Gray's Inn. 

4. Aristotle, who lived three centuries before Christ, and Lon- 
ginus, who lived three centuries after Christ, were the classic 
ancient authorities on the criticism of art ; Littleton and Coke, 
the former in the fifteenth, and the latter who was a commen- 



THE CLUB. 23 

father sends up every post questions relating to mar- 
riage-articles, leases, and tenures, in the neighbor- 
hood ; all which questions he agrees with an attorney 
to answer and take care of in the lumj). He is study- 
ing the passions themselves, when he should be in- 
quiring into the debates among men which arise from 
them. He knows the argument of each of the ora- 
tions of Demosthenes and Tully,^ but not one case in 
the reports of our own courts. No one ever took him 
for a fool, but none, except his intimate friends, 
know he has a great deal of wit.^ This turn makes 
him at once both disinterested and agreeable : as few 
of his thoughts are drawn from business, they are 
most of them fit for conversation. His taste of books 
is a little too just for the age he lives in; he has read 
all, but approves of very few. His familiarity with 
the customs, manners, actions, and writings of the 
ancients makes him a very delicate observer of what 
occurs to him in the present world. He is an excel- 
lent critic, and the time of the play is his hour of 
business; exactly at five^ he passes through New 
Inn,^ crosses through Russell Court, and takes a turn 

tator on him, in the sixteenth, were the classic English authorities 
on law. 

1. TuUy was for a long time the familiar mode in which 
Marcus Tullius Cicero was spoken of in England. 

2. It should be remembered that our limitation of the use of 
this word did not prevail in the time of The Spectator^ when its 
more common significance as here was that of intellectual force. 

3. In 1663 the theatrical performances began at three in the 
afternoon. In 1667 the hour was four, and the time was gradu- 
ally made later. In 1711 the hour was six, dinner having been 
usually at three or four. Tlie beau of the season after dinner 
was wont to spend an hour at a coffee-house before the play. 

4. There were pleasant walks and gardens attached to New 
Inn, which was a precinct of Middle Temple. 



24 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

at Will's till the play begins; he has his shoes rubbed 
and his periwig powdered at the barber's as you go 
into the Rose.^ It is for the good of the audience 
when he is at a play, for the actors have an ambition 
to please him. 

The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew 
rreeport,^ a merchant of great eminence in the city 
of London, a person of indefatigable industry, strong 
reason, and great experience. His notions of trade 
are noble and generous, and (as every rich man has 
usually some sly way of jesting, which would make 
no great figure were he not a rich man) he calls the 
sea the British Common. He is acquainted with 
commerce in all its parts, and will tell you that it is 
a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion by 
arms ; for true power is to be got by arts and indus- 
try. He will often argue that if this part of our 
trade were well cultivated, we should gain from one 
nation ; and if another, from another. I have heard 
him prove that diligence makes more lasting acquisi- 
tions than valor, and that sloth has ruined more na- 
tions than the sword. He abounds in several frugal 

1. The Rose Tavern in Covent Garden adjoining Drury Lane 
Theatre was the haunt of dramatic authors. 

2. From the character and opinions of Sir Andrew it is not 
unlikely that in choosing his name Steele and Addison made allu- 
sion to the policy then urged to abolish the commercial restric- 
tions of the port of London. Dr. Johnson in his life of Addison 
says : " To Sir Roger, who as a country gentleman appears to be 
a Tory, or as it is generally expressed, an adherent to the landed 
interest, is opposed Sir Andrew Freeport, a new man and a 
wealthy merchant, zealous for .the monej'fed interest and a Wliig. 
Of this contrariety of opinions more consequences were at first 
intended than could be produced when the resolution was taken 
to exclude party from the paper." 



THE CLUB, 25 

maxims, amongst which the greatest favorite is, "A 
penny saved is a penny got." A general trader of 
good sense is pleasanter company than a general 
scholar ; and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected 
eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse gives the 
same pleasure that wit would in another man. He 
has made his fortunes himself, and says that England 
may be richer than other kingdoms by as plain meth- 
ods as he himself is richer than other men; though 
at the same time I can say this of him, that there is 
not a point in the compass but blows home a ship in 
which he is an owner. 

Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain 
Sentry, a gentleman of great courage, good under- 
standing, but invincible modesty. He is one of those 
that deserve very well, bat are very awkward at putting 
their talents within the observation of such as should 
take notice of them. He was some years a captain, 
and behaved himself with great gallantry in several 
engagements and at several sieges; but having a 
small estate of his own, and being next heir to Sir 
Koger,^ he has quitted a way of life in which no man 
can rise suitably to his merit who is not something of 
a courtier as well as a soldier. I have heard him 
often lament that in a profession where merit is 
placed in so conspicuous a view, impudence should 
get the better of modesty. When he has talked to 
this purpose I never heard him make a sour expres- 
sion, but frankly confess that he left the world be- 
cause he was not fit for it. A strict honesty and an 
even regular behavior are in themselves obstacles to 
him that must press through crowds, who endeavor 

1. In the last of these papers, Captain Sentry is further noted 
as nephew to Sir Roger. 



26 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

at tlie same end with himself, — the favor of a com- 
mander. He will, however, in this way of talk excuse 
generals for not disposing according to men's desert, 
or inquiring into it: "for," says he, "that great man 
who has a mind to help me, has as many to break 
through to come at me, as I have to come at him;" 
therefore he will conclude, that the man who would 
make a figure, especially in a military way, must get 
over all false modesty, and assist his patron against 
the importunity of other pretenders by a proper assur- 
ance in his own vindication. He says it is a civil 
cowardice to be backward in asserting what you 
ought to expect, as it is a military fear to be slow in 
attacking when it is your duty. With this candor 
does the gentleman speak of himself and others. 
The same frankness runs through all his conversation. 
The military part of his life has furnished him with 
many adventures, in the relation of which he is very 
agreeable to the company ; for he is never overbear- 
ing, though accustomed to command men in the 
utmost degree below him; nor ever too obsequious 
from a habit of obeying men highly above him. 
i" But that our society may not appear a set of hu- 
morists ^ unacquainted with the gallantries and pleas- 
ures of the age, we have among us the gallant Will 
Honeycomb, a gentleman who according to his years 
should be in the decline of his life, but having ever 
been very careful of his person, and alwa3^s had a 
very easy fortune, time has made but very little 
impression either by wrinkles on his forehead, or 

1. That is, persons who conduct themselves after their own 
whims rather than by the conventional laws of society. Ben 
Jonson emphasizes this significance of the word in his plays 
Every Man in his Humor and Every Man out of his Humor. 



THE CLUB. 27 

traces in his brain. His person is well turned, and 
of good height. He is very ready at that sort of 
discourse with whicli men usually entertain women. 
He has all his life dressed very well, and remembers 
habits ^ as others do men. He can smile when one 
speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows the his- 
tory of every mode, and can inform you from which 
of the French king's wenches our wives and daugh- 
ters had this manner of curling their hair, that way 
of placing their hoods ; whose frailty was covered by 
such a sort of petticoat, and whose vanity to show 
her foot made that part of the dress so short in such 
a year; in a word, all his conversation and knowledge 
has been in the female world. As other men of his 
age will take notice to you what such a minister said 
upon such and such an occasion, he will tell you 
when the Duke of Monmouth^ danced at court such 
a woman was then smitten, another was taken with 
him at the head of his troop in the Park. In all 
these important relations, he has ever about the same 
time received a kind glance or a blow of a fan from 
some celebrated beauty, mother of the present Lord 
Such-a-one. If you speak of a young commoner that 
said a lively thing in the House, he starts up : " He 
has good blood in his veins ; Tom Mirabel begot him ; ^ 
the rogue cheated me in that affair : that young f el- 

1. That is, dresses and costumes. We retain this use in the 
compound riding-habit. 

2. The handsome, dashing, and favorite son of Charles II 
"The queen ... it seems, was at Windsor at the late St. 
George's feast there, and the Duke of Monmouth dancing with 
her with his hat in his hand, the king came in and kissed him, 
and made him put on his hat, v^hieh everybody took notice of." 
Pepys's Diary, April 27, 1663. 

3. Mirabel was a favorite name in the comedies of the day. 



28 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

low's mother used me more like a dog than any 
woman I ever made advances to." (This way of talk- 
ing of his very much enlivens the conversation among 
us of a more sedate turn ; and I find there is not one 
of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, 
but speaks of him as of that sort of man who is usu- 
ally called a well-bred fine gentleman. > To conclude 
his character, where women are not concerned, he is 
an honest worthy man. 

I cannot tell whether I am to account him whoni I 
am next to speak of as one of our company, for he 
visits us but seldom; but when he does, it adds to 
every man else a new enjoyment of himself. He is 
a clergyman, a very philosophic man, of general 
learning, great sanctity of life, and the most exact 
good breeding. He has the misfortune to be of a very 
weak constitution, and consequently cannot accept of 
such cares and business as preferments in his func- 
tion would oblige him to; he is therefore among 
divines what a chamber-counsellor is among lawyers. 
The probity of his mind, and the integrity of his life, 
create him followers, as being eloquent or loud 
advances others. He seldom introduces the subject 
he speaks upon; but we are so far gone in j^ears, 
that he observes, when he is among us, an earnest- 
ness to have him fall on some divine topic, which he 
always treats with much authority, as one who has no 
interests in this world, as one who is hastening to the 
object of all his wdshes, and conceives hope from his 
decays and infirmities. These are my ordinary com- 
panions. 



SIR ROGER 0N MEN OF FINE PARTS. 29 

III. SIR ROGER ON MEN OF FINE PARTS. 

Credebant hoc grand e nefas,et morte piandum, 
Si juvenis vetulo non assurrexerat.^ 

Juvenal, Satire xiil. 54, 55. 

I KNOW no evil under the sun so great as tlie abuse 
of the understanding, and yet there is no one vice 
more common. It has diffused itself through both 
sexes, and all qualities of mankind; and there is 
hardly that person to be found, who is not more 
concerned for the reputation of wit and sense, than 
honesty and virtue. But this unhappy affectation 
of being wise rather than honest, witty than good- 
natured, is the source of most of the ill habits of 
life. Such false impressions are owing to the aban- 
doned writings of men of wit, and the awkward imi- 
tation of the rest of mankind. 

For this reason Sir Roger was saying last night, 
that he was of opinion that none but men of fine 
parts deserve to be hanged. The reflections of such 
men are so delicate upon all occurrences which they 
are concerned in, that they should be exposed to 
more than ordinary infamy and punishment, for 
offending against such quick admonitions as their 
own souls give them, and blunting the fine edge of 
their minds in such a manner, that they are no more 
shocked at vice and folly than men of slower capaci- 
ties. There is no greater monster in being than a 
very ill man of great parts. He lives like a man in 
a palsy, with one side of him dead. While perhaps 
he enjoys the satisfaction of luxury, of wealth, of 
ambition, he has lost the taste of good-will, of friend- 

1. They held it impious and a capital crime 

If a youth did not rise in the presence of age. 



30 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

ship, of innocence. Scarecrow, the beggar, in Lin- 
cohi's-inn-fields,i who disabled himself in his right 
leg, and asks alms all day to get himself a warm sup- 
per and a trull at night, is not half so despicable a 
wretch, as such a man of sense. The beggar has no 
relish above sensations ; he finds rest more agreeable 
than motion ; and while he has a warm fire and his 
doxy, never reflects that he deserves to be whipped. 
Every man who terminates his satisfaction and en- 
joyments within the supply of his own necessities and 
passions is, says Sir Roger, in my eye, as poor a 
rogue as Scarecrow. "But," continued he, "for the 
loss of public and private virtue, we are beholden 
to your men of parts forsooth; it is with them no 
matter what is done, so it is done with an air. But 
to me, v.ho am so whimsical in a corrupt age as to 
act according to nature and reason, a selfish man, in 
the most shining circumstance and equipage, appears 
in the same condition with the fellow above-men- 
tioned, but more contemptible in proportion to what 
more he robs the public of, and enjoys above him. I 
lay it down therefore for a rule, that the whole man 
is to move together; that every action of any impor- 
tance is to have a prospect of public good ; and that 
the general tendency of our indifferent actions ought 
to be agreeable to the dictates of reason, of religion, 
of good-breeding; without this, a man, as I have 
before hinted, is hopping instead of walking, he is 
not in his entire and proper motion." 

1. A pubhc square iii the immediate vicinity, as its name indi- 
cates, of Lineohi's Inn. "These celebrated fields," says Peter 
Cunningham in his Handbook of London, "were frequented from 
a very early period down to the year 1735 by wrestlers, bowlers, 
cripples, beggars, and idle boys." 



SIR ROGER ON MEN OF FINE PARTS. 31 

While the honest knight was thus bewiklering 
himself in good starts, I looked attentively upon him, 
which made him, I thought, collect his mind a little. 
"What I aim at," says he, "is to represent that I am 
of opinion, to polish our understandings, and neglect 
our manners, is of all things the most inexcusable. 
Reason should govern passion, but instead of that, 
you see, it is often subservient to it; and, as unac- 
countable as one would think it, a wise man is not 
always a good man." This degeneracy is not only 
the guilt of particular persons, but also, at some 
times, of a whole people ; and perhaps it may apj)ear 
upon examination, that the most polite ages are the 
least virtuous. This may be attributed to the folly 
of admitting wit and learning as merit in themselves, 
without considering the application of them. By 
this means it becomes a rule, not so much to regard 
what we do, as how we do it. But this false beauty 
will not pass upon men of honest minds and true 
taste. Sir Richard Blackmore ^ says, with as much 
good sense as virtue, "It is a mighty dishonor and 
shame to employ excellent faculties and abundance 
of wit, to humor and please men in their vices and 
follies. The great enemy of mankind, notwithstand- 
ing his wit and angelic faculties, is the most odious 
being in the whole creation." He goes on soon after 
to say, very generously, that he undertook the writ- 
ing of his poem "to rescue the Muses out of the hands 

1. Blackmore was born in 1650 and had at this time printed a 
number of dull poems. He was a physician, esteemed for his 
good sense and virtue, but his character, though it made his con- 
temporaries respect him and extend their civility to his writings, 
has not preserved those writings in the interest of posterity. The 
passage here quoted is said to be a condensation of a manuscript 
unpublished at the time. 



82 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET, 

of ravisliers, to restore them to their sweet and chaste 
mansions, and to engage them in an employment 
suitable to their dignity." This certainly ought to be 
the purpose of every man who appears in public, and 
whoever does not proceed upon that foundation in- 
jures his country as fast as he succeeds in his studies. 
When modesty ceases to be the chief ornament of 
one sex, and integrity of the other, society is upon a 
wronof basis, and we shall be ever after without rules 
to guide our judgment in what is really becoming and 
ornamental. Nature and reason direct one thing, 
passion and humor another. To follow the dictates 
of the two latter is going into a road that is both 
endless and intricate; when we pursue the other, our 
passage is delightful, and what we aim at easily 
attainable. 

. I do not doubt but England is at present as polite 
a nation as any in the world; but any man who 
thinks can easily see, that the affectation of being 
gay and in fashion has very near eaten up our good 
sense and our religion. Is there anything so just as 
that mode and gallantry should be built upon exert- 
ing ourselves in what is proper and agreeable to the 
institutions of justice and piety among us? And yet 
is there anything more common than that we run in 
perfect contradiction to them? All which is sup- 
ported by no other pretension than that it is done 
with what we call a good grace. 

Nothing ought to be held laudable or becoming, 
but what nature itself should prompt us to think so. 
Respect to all kinds of superiors is founded methinks 
upon instinct; and yet what is so ridiculous as age? 
I make this abrupt transition to the mention of this 
vice, more than any other, in order to introduce a 



SIR ROGER ON MEN OF FINE PARTS. 33 

little story, which I think a pretty instance that the 
most polite age is in danger of being the most 
vicious, 

"It happened at Athens, during a public represen- 
tation of some play exhibited in honor of the com- 
monwealth, that an old gentleman came too late for 
a place suitable to his age and quality. Many of the 
young gentlemen, who observed the difficulty and 
confusion he was in, made signs to him that they 
would accommodate him if he came where they sat. 
The good man bustled through the crowd accord- 
ingly ; but when he came to the seats to which he was 
invited, the jest was to sit close and expose him, as 
he stood, out of countenance, to the whole audience. 
The frolic went round all the Athenian benches. But 
on those occasions there were also particular places 
assigned for foreigners. When the good man 
skulked towards the boxes appointed for the Lace- 
daemonians, that honest people, more virtuous than 
polite, rose up all to a man, and with the greatest 
respect received him among them. The Athenians 
being suddenly touched with a sense of the Spartan 
virtue and their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of 
applause ; and the old man cried out, * The Atheni- 
ans understand what is good, but the Lacedaemonians 
practise it.' "^ 

1. This paper has Httle directly to do with Sir Roger. In- 
deed, his name is quite all that connects him with its sentiments. 
The quotation marks follow the original, but it is not easy to 
say when the Spectator and when Sir Roger is speaking. It 
suggests that the first design of Addison and Steele was not so 
much to build up a character as to furnish convenient stalking 
horses for such opinions as they might deliver, and the next 
paper seems to confirm this view. 



34 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 



IV. A MEETING OF THE CLUB. 

Parcit 
Cognatis maculis similisfera?- 

Juvenal, Satires, 159. 

The club of which I am a member is very luckily 
composed of such persons as are engaged in different 
ways of life, and deputed as it were out of the most 
conspicuous classes of mankind : by this means I am 
furnished with the greatest variety of hints and ma- 
terials, and know everything that passes in the differ- 
ent quarters and divisions, not only of this great city, 
but of the whole kingdom. My readers, too, have 
the satisfaction to find, that there is no rank or 
degree among them who have not their representative 
in this club, and that there is always somebody pres- 
ent who will take care of their respective interests, 
that nothing may be written or published to the pre- 
judice or infringement of their just rights and privi- 
leges. 

I last night sat very late in company with this 
select body of friends, who entertained me with sev- 
eral remarks which they and others had made upon 
these my speculations, as also with the various suc- 
cess, which they had met with among their several 
ranks and degrees of readers. Will Honeycomb 
told me, in the softest manner he could, that there 
were some ladies (but for your comfort, says Will, 
they are not those of the most wit) that were offended 
at the liberties I had taken with the opera and the 
puppet-show ; ^ that some of them were likewise very 

1. The wikl beast spares the creature marked like itself. 

2. In a number of The Spectator the previous week. 



A MEETING OF THE CLUB. 35 

much surprised, that I should think such serious 
points as the dress and equipage of persons of qual- 
ity proper subjects for raillery.^ 

He was going on, when Sir Andrew Freeport took 
him up short, and told him, that the papers he hinted 
at had done great good in the city, and that all their 
wives and daughters were the better for them: and 
further added, that the whole city thought themselves 
very much obliged to me for declaring my generous 
intentions to scourge vice and folly as they appear 
in a multitude, without condescending to be a pub- 
lisher of particular intrigues and cuckoldoms. In 
short, says Sir Andrew, if you avoid that foolish 
beaten road of falling upon aldermen and citizens, 
and employ your pen upon the vanity and luxury of 
courts, your paper must needs be of general use. 

Upon this my friend the Templar told Sir Andrew, 
that he wondered to hear a man of his sense talk 
after that manner; that the city had always been 
the province for satire; and that the wits of king 
Charles's time jested upon nothing else during his 
whole reign. He then showed, by the examples of 
Horace, Juvenal, Boileau, and the best writers of 
every age, that the follies of the stage and court had 
never been accounted too sacred for ridicule, how 
great soever the persons might be that patronized 
them. But after all, says he, I think your raillery 
has made too great an excursion, in attacking several 
persons of the inns of court; and I do not believe 
you can show me any precedent for your behavior in 
that particular. 

My good friend Sir Roger de Coverley, who had 
said nothing all this while, began his speech with a 
1. As, for example, in Number Sixteen. 



36 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

pish! and told us, that he wondered to see so many 
men of sense so very serious upon fooleries. "Let 
our good friend," says he, "attack every one that 
deserves it; I would only advise you, Mr. Spectator," 
apj)lying himself to me, "to take care how you meddle 
with country squires : they are the ornaments of the 
English nation ; men of good heads and sound bodies ! 
and let me tell you, some of them take it ill of you, 
that you mention foxhunters with so little respect." 

Captain Sentry spoke very sparingly on this occa- 
sion. What he said was only to commend my pru- 
dence in not touching upon the army, and advised 
me to continue to act discreetly in that point. 

By this time I found every subject of my specula- 
tions was taken away from me, by one or other of the 
club ; and began to think myself in the condition of 
the good man that had one wife who took a dislike to 
his gray hairs, and another to his black, till by their 
picking out what each of them had an aversion to, 
they left his head altogether bald and naked. 

While I was thus musing with myself, my worthy 
friend the clergyman, who, very luckily for me, was 
at the club that night, undertook my cause. He told 
us, that he wondered any order of persons should 
think themselves too considerable to be advised : that 
it was not quality, but innocence, which exempted 
men from reproof: that vice and folly ought to be 
attacked wherever they could be met with, and espe- 
cially when they were placed in high and conspicuous 
stations of life. He further added, that my paper 
would only serve to aggravate the pains of poverty, 
if it chiefly exposed those who are already depressed, 
and in some measure turned into ridicule, by the 
meanness of their conditions and circumstances. He 



A MEETING OF THE CLUB. 37 

afterwards proceeded to take notice of the great use 
this paper might be of to the public, by reprehending 
those vices which are too trivial for the chastisement 
of the law, and too fantastical for the cognizance of 
the pulpit. He then advised me to prosecute my 
undertaking with cheerfulness, and assured me, that 
whoever might be displeased with me, I should be 
approved by all those whose praises do honor to the 
persons on whom they are bestowed. 

The whole club pays a particular deference to the 
discourse of this gentleman, and are drawn into what 
he says, as much by the candid and ingenuous man- 
ner with which he delivers himself, as by the strength 
of argument and force of reason which he makes use 
of. Will Honeycomb immediately agreed that what 
he had said was right; and that for his part, he would 
not insist upon the quarter which he had demanded 
for the ladies. Sir Andrew gave up the city with the 
same frankness. The Templar would not stand out: 
and was followed by Sir Roger and the Captain : who 
all agreed that I should be at liberty to carry the war 
into what quarter I pleased ; provided I continued to 
combat with criminals in a body, and to assault the 
vice without hurting the person. 

This debate, which was held for the good of man- 
kind, put me in mind of that which the Roman tri- 
umvirate were formerly engaged in, for their destruc- 
tion. Every man at first stood hard for his friend, 
till they found that by this means they should spoil 
their proscription: and at length, making a sacrifice 
of all their acquaintance and relations, furnished out 
a very decent execution. 

Having thus taken my resolution to march on 
boldly in the cause of virtue and good sense, and to 



38 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

annoy their adversaries in whatever degree or rank 
of men tliey may be found, I shall be deaf for the 
future to all the remonstrances that shall be made to 
me on this account. If Punch grow extravagant, I 
shall reprimand him very freely : if the stage becomes 
a nursery of folly and impertinence, I shall not be 
afraid to animadvert upon it. In short, if I meet 
with anything in city, court, or country, that shocks 
modesty or good manners, I shall use my utmost 
endeavors to make an example of it. I must, how- 
ever, intreat every particular person, who does me 
the honor to be a reader of this paper, never to think 
himself, or any one of his friends or enemies, aimed 
at in what is said: for I promise him, never to draw 
a faulty character Vvhich does not fit at least a thou- 
sand people ; or to publish a single paper that is not 
written in the spirit of benevolence, and with a love 
to mankind. 



V. LEONORA'S LIBRARY. 

Non ilia colo calathisve MinervcE 
Foemineas assueta manus?- 

Virgil, ^neicl, vii. 805, 806. 

Some months ago, my friend Sir Roger, being in 
the country, inclosed a letter to me, directed to a 
certain lady, whom I shall here call by the name of 
Leonora, and, as it contained matters of consequence, 
desired me to deliver it to her with my own hand. 
Accordingly I waited upon her ladyship pretty early 
in the morning, and was desired by her woman to 
walk into her lady's librar}% till such time as she was 
in a readiness to receive me. The very sound of a 

1. Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskilled. — Dryden. 



LEONORA'S LIBRARY. 39 

Lady's Library gave me a great curiosity to see it; 
and, as it was some time before the lady came to me, 
I had an opportunity of turning over a great many 
of her books, which were ranged together in a very 
beautiful order. At the end of the folios (which 
were finely bound and gilt) were great jars of china 
placed one above another in a very noble piece of 
architecture. The quartos were separated from the 
octavos by a pile of smaller vessels, which rose in a 
delightful pyramid. The octavos were bounded by 
tea-dishes of all shapes, colors, and sizes, which were 
so disposed on a wooden frame that they looked like 
one continued pillar indented with the finest strokes 
of sculpture, and stained with the greatest variety 
of dyes. That part of the library which was designed 
for the reception of plays and pamphlets, and other 
loose papers, was inclosed in a kind of square, con- 
sisting of one of the prettiest grotesque works that 
ever I saw, and made up of scaramouches, lions, 
monkeys, mandarins, trees, shells, and a thousand 
other odd figures in China ware. Li the midst of 
the room was a little Japan table, with a quire of gilt 
paper upon it, and on the paper a silver snuff-box 
made in the shape of a little book. I found there 
were several other counterfeit books upon the upper 
shelves, which were carved in wood, and served only 
to fill up the number, like fagots in the muster of 
a regiment. I was wonderfully pleased with such a 
mixt kind of furniture, as seemed very suitable both 
to the lady and the scholar, and did not know at first 
whether I should fancy myself in a grotto, or in a 
library. 

Upon my looking into the books, I found there 
were some few which the lady had bought for her 



40 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

own use, but that most of them had been got together, 
either because she had heard them praised, or because 
she had seen the authors of them. Among several 
that I examined, I very well remember these that 
follow. 

Ogilby's Virgil. 

Dryden's Juvenal. 

Cassandra. 

Cleopatra.^ 

Astrsea.2 

Sir Isaac Newton's Works. 

The Grand Cyrus ; ^ with a pin stuck in one of the 
middle leaves. 

Pembroke's Arcadia.* 

Locke of Human Understanding; with a paper of 
patches in it. 

A spelling-book. 

A Dictionary for the explanation of hard words. 

Sherlock upon Death. 

The fifteen Comforts of Matrimony. 

Sir William Temple's Essays. 

Father Malbranche's Search after Truth, translated 
into English. 

A book of Novels. 

1. Cassandra and Cleapatra were Fi'ench romances which had 
been translated into English. 

2. A pastoral romance translated from the French. 

3. By Madame de Scud^ri, the most popular writer of French 
romances of the day. 

4. There was a superficial similarity between Pembroke's 
Arcadia and AstTxea ; but for the most part, as the reader will 
notice, Leonora's reading of romances was confined to the French, 
since the English had hardly yet occupied the great field of fic- 
tion. It was thirty years before Pamela and Joseph Andrews 
appeared. 



LEONORA'S LIBRARY. 41 

The Academy of Compliments. * 

Culpepper's Midwifery. 

The Ladies' Calling. 

Tales in Verse by Mr. Durfey:^ bound in red 
leather, gilt on the back, and doubled down in sev- 
eral places. 

All the Classic Authors, in wood. 

A set of Elzevers, by the same hand. 

Clelia: ^ which opened of itself in the place that 
describes two lovers in a bower. 

Baker's Chronicle. 

Advice to a Daughter. 

The new Atlantis, with a Key to it.^ 

Mr. Steele's Christian Hero.^ 

A Prayer-book; with a bottle of Hungary water 
by the side of it. 

Dr. Sacheverell's Speech.^ 

Fielding's Trial. 

Seneca's Morals. 

Taylor's holy Living and Dying. 

1. Thomas D'Urfey was a writer of somewhat free plays and 
songs, and a familiar companion of Charles II. 

2. Clelia was another of Madame de Scuddri's romances. 

3. A scandalous book whose full title was Secret Memoirs and 
Manners of several Persons of Quality of both Sexes from the New 
A tlantis, an Island in the Mediterranean. Under feigned names 
it slandered members of Whig families. It was a new book 
when Addison was writing, for it came out in 1709. 

4. The Christian Hero was a serious work by Richard Steele, 
and was introduced apparently by Addison as a sly aside at his 
comrade in letters. 

5. Dr. Henry Sacheverell was a clergyman who had just been 
lifted into prominence by an action foolishly brought against 
him by the Whigs for preaching two sermons obnoxious to them. 
The affair had much to do with the downfall of the Whig minis- 
try. 



42 SIR ROGER DE CO V ERIE Y. 

La Ferte's Instructions for Country Dances.^ 
I was taking a catalogue in my pocket-book of 
these, and several other authors, when Leonora en- 
tered, and, upon my presenting her with the letter 
from the Knight, told me, with an unspeakable grace, 
that she hoped Sir Roger was in good health. I 
answered yes ; for I hate long speeches, and after a 
bow or two retired. 

Leonora was formerly a celebrated beauty, and is 
still a very lovely woman. She has been a widow 
for two or three years, and being unfortunate in her 
first marriage, has taken a resolution never to venture 
upon a second. She has no children to take care of, 
and leaves the management of her estate to my good 
friend Sir Roger. But as the mind naturally sinks 
into a kind of lethargy, and falls asleep, that is not 
agitated by some favorite pleasures and pursuits, 
Leonora has turned all the passions of her sex into a 
love of books and retirement. She converses chiefly 
with men, (as she has often said herself,) but it is 
only in their writings; and she admits of very few 
male-visitants, except my friend Sir Roger, whom she 
hears with great pleasure, and without scandal. As 
her reading has lain very much among romances, it 
has given her a very particular turn of thinking, and 
discovers itself even in her house, her gardens, and 
her furniture. Sir Roger has entertained me an hour 
together with a description of her country-seat, which 
is situated in a kind of wilderness, about an hundred 
miles distant from London, and looks like a little 

1. La Ferte was the fashionable daneing-niaster of the day. 
It is not difficult to see in this jumble which were the books 
bought for Leonora for show and which she had chosen for her 
own delectation. 



LEONORA'S LIBRARY. 43 

enchanted palace. The rocks about her are shaped 
into artificial grottoes, covered with wood-bines and 
jessamines. The woods are cut into shady walks, 
twisted into bowers, and filled with cages of turtles. 
The springs are made to run among pebbles, and by 
that means taught to murmur very agreeably. They 
are likewise collected into a beautiful lake, that is in- 
habited by a couple of swans, and empties itself by a 
little rivulet which runs through a green meadow, 
and is known in the family by the name of The Purl- 
ing Stream. The Knight likew^ise tells me, that this 
lady preserves her game better than any of the gen- 
tlemen in the country. "Not (says Sir Roger) that 
she sets so great a value upon her partridges and 
pheasants, as upon her larks and nightingales. For 
she says that every bird which is killed in her ground 
will spoil a consort, and that she shall certainly miss 
him the next year." 

When I think how oddly this lady is improved by 
learning, I look upon her with a mixture of admira- 
tion and pity. Amidst these innocent entertainments 
which she has formed to herself, how much more val- 
uable does she appear than those of her sex, who 
employ themselves in diversions that are less reason- 
able, though more in fashion ! What improvements 
would a woman have made, who is so susceptible of 
impressions from wdiat she reads, had she been guided 
to such books as have a tendency to enlighten the 
understanding and rectify the passions, as w^ell as to 
those which are of little more use than to divert the 
imagination ! 

But the manner of a lady's employing herself use- 
fully in reading shall be the subject of another paper, 
in which I design to recommend such particular books 



44 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

as may be proper for the improvement of the sex. 
And as this is a subject of a very nice nature, I shall 
desire my correspondents to give me their thoughts 
upon it. 

VI. SIR ROGER AT HIS COUNTRY HOUSK 

Hinc tibi copia 
Manabit ad plenum, benigno 
Ruris honorum opulenta cornu.^ 

Horace, Odes, I. xvii. 14-17. 

Having often received an invitation from my 
friend Sir Koger de Coverley ^ to pass away a month 
with him in the country, I last week accompanied him 
thither, and am settled with him for some time at his 
country house, where I intend to form several of my 
ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well 
acquainted with my humor, lets me rise and go to 
bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my 

1. [The Gods are my guardians, the Gods hke my piety, 
And are pleased with my Muse ;] from their bounty shall 

flow 
For your use all the fruits of the earth to satiety, 
All the pleasures that Nature alone can bestow. 

John 0. Sargent's tramlation. 

2. It will be observed that it is four months since the intro- 
duction of the figure of Sir Roger, and the papers that intervene 
scarcely do anything toward filling out the character, so skill- 
fully outlined by Steele. Indeed, of all the persons named in 
the second paper, Will Honeycomb is by far the most frequently 
named ; but it must not be inferred that Sir Roger had been out 
of mind. In the number for April 23d, Addison publishes a 
paper of Minutes for articles which the Spectator is supposed to 
have dropped accidentally in a coffee-house. The first memo- 
randum is "Sir Roger de Coverley's Country Seat." He now 
takes up the character in good earnest, and with occasional help 
from Steele and Budgell makes it his own. 



SIR ROGER AT HIS COUNTRY HOUSE. 45 

cliamber as I tliiiik fit, sit still and ^ay nothing with- 
out bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of 
the country come to see him, he only shows me at a 
distance: as I have been walking in his fields I have 
observed them stealing a sight of me over an hedge, ^ 
and have heard the Knight desiring them not to let 
me see them, for that I hated to be stared at. 

I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, be- 
cause it consists of sober and staid persons; for, as 
the Knight is the best master in the world, he seldom 
changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all 
about him, his servants never care for leaving him ; 
by this means his domestics are all in years, and 
grown old with their master. You would take his 
valet de chambre for his brother, his butler is gray- 
headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I 
have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a 
privy counsellor. You see the goodness of the master 
even in the old house dog, and in a gray pad that is 
kept in the stable with great care and tenderness, out 
of regard to his past services, though he has been 
useless for several years. 

I could not but observe with a great deal of pleas- 
ure, the joy that appeared in the countenances of 
these ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at 
his country-seat. Some of them could not refrain 
from tears at the sight of their old master; every one 
of them pressed forward to do something for him, and 
seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At 
the same time the good old Knight, with the mixture 
of the father and the master of the family, tempered 
the inquiries after his own affairs with several kind 

1. In Addison's time the distinction had not become fixed 
which uses an only before a vowel or silent h. 



46 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

questions relating to themselves. This humanity 
and good-nature engages everybody to him, so that 
when he is pleasant ^ upon any of them, all his family 
are in good humor, and none so much as the person 
whom he diverts himself with : on the contrary, if he 
coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy 
for a stander-by to observe a secret concern in the 
looks of all his servants. 

My worthy friend has put me under the particular 
care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, 
as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully 
desirous of pleasing me, because they have often 
heard their master talk of me as of his particular 
friend. 

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting 
himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable 
man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his 
house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. 
This gentleman is a person of good sense and some 
learning, of a very regular life and obliging conver- 
sation: he heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows 
that he is very much in the old Knight's esteem, so 
that he lives in the family rather as a relation than a 
dependent. 2 

I have observed in several of my papers that my 
friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is 
something of an humorist; and that his virtues as 
well as imperfections are, as it were, tinged by a 
certain extravagance, which makes them particularly 

1. This sense of the word survives in the iovm pleasantry . 

2, The literature of Addison's time is full of intimations of 
the inferior position of the country clergy. Fifty years later 
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield gave evidence of the same social 
condition. 



SIR ROGER AT HIS COUNTRY HOUSE. 47 

lis, and distinguishes them from those of other men. 
Chis cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in 
tself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, 
ind more delightful than the same degree of sense 
Lud virtue would appear in their common and ordi- 
lary colors. As I was walking with him last night, 
le asked me how I liked the good man whom I have 
ust now mentioned, and without staying for my 
inswer told me that he was afraid of being insulted 
vith Latin and Greek at his own table, for which 
•eason he desired a particular friend of his at the 
Jniversity to find him out a clergyman rather of 
)lain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, a 
dear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible, a 
nan that understood a little of backgammon. My 
'riend, says Sir Koger, found me out this gentleman, 
vho, besides the endowments required of him, is, 
;hey tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show 
t: I have given him the parsonage of the parish; 
md, because I know his value, have settled upon 
lim a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he 
diall find that he was higher in my esteem than per- 
laps he thinks he is. He has now been with me 
;hirty years, and, though he does not know I have 
;aken notice of it, has never in all that time asked 
mything of me for himself, though he is every day 
ioliciting me for something in behalf of one or other 
)f my tenants his parishioners. There has not been 
I lawsuit in the parish since he has lived among 
:hem : if any dispute arises they apply themselves to 
bim for the decision; if they do not acquiesce in 
bis judgment, which I think never happened above 
3nce or twice at most, they appeal to me. At his 
first settling with me I made him a present of all the 



48 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY, 

good sermons which have been printed in English, 
and only begged of him that every Sunday he would 
pronounce one of them in the pulpit. * Accordingly 
he has digested them into such a series^ that they 
follow one another naturally, and make a continued 
system of practical divinity. 

As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gen- 
tleman we were talking of came up to us ; and ujDon 
the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow 
(for it was Saturday night) told us the Bishop of St. 
Asaj)h ^ in the morning, and Dr. South in the after- 
noon. He then showed us his list of preachers for 
the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of 
pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, 
Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with several living authors 
who have published discourses of practical divinit}^ 
I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, 
but I very much approved of my friend's insisting 
upon the qualifications of a good aspect and a clear 
voice ; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of 
his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses 
he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time 
more to my satisfaction. A sermon repeated after 
this manner is like the composition of a poet in the 
mouth of a graceful actor. 

I could heartily wish that more of our country 
clergy would follow this example; and, instead of 
wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of 
their own, would endeavor after a handsome elocu- 
tion, and all those other talents that are proper to 

1. William Beveridge, who had recently died, and whose ser- 
mons had a high popularity. It is possible, however, that Addi- 
son had in mind Dr. William Fleetwood who succeeded Bever- 
idge. 



THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD. 49 

enforce what has been penned by greater masters. 
This would not only be more easy to themselves, but 
more edifying to the people. 



VII. THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD. 

^sopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici, 
Servumque collocnrunt ceterna in basi, 
Patere honoris scirent ut cuncti viam.^ 

Phjsdrus, Ep. i. 2. 

The reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed 
freedom, and quiet, which I meet with here in the 
country, has confirmed me in the opinion I always 
had, that the general corruption of manners in ser- 
vants is owing to the conduct of masters. The as- 
pect of every one in the family carries so much satis- 
faction that it appears he knows the happy lot which 
has befallen him in being a member of it. There is 
one particular which I have seldom seen but at Sir 
Roger's; it is usual in all other places, that servants 
fly from the parts of the house through which their 
master is passing: on the contrary, here they indus- 
triously place themselves in his way* and it is on 
both sides, as it were, understood as a visit, when the 
servants appear without calling. This proceeds from 
the humane and equal temper of the man of the 
house, who also perfectly well knows how to enjoy a 
great estate with such economy as ever to be much 
beforehand. This makes his own mind untroubled, 
and consequently unapt to vent peevish expressions, 

1. To ^sop a more than life-size statue did the Athenians 
raise. 
Slave thoufj^h he was, they placed him on a solid base, 
That all might know how open lay the path of honor. 



60 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

or give passionate or inconsistent orders to those 
about him. Thus respect and love go together, and 
a certain cheerfuhiess in performance of their duty is 
the particular distinction of the lower part of this 
family. When a servant is called before his master, 
he does not come with an expectation to hear himself 
rated for some trivial fault, threatened to be stripped, 
or used with any other unbecoming language, which 
mean masters often give to worthy servants; but it is 
often to know what road he took that he came so 
readily back according to order; whether he passed 
by such a ground; if the old man who rents it is in 
good health; or whether he gave Sir Roger's love to 
him, or the like. 

A man who preserves a respect founded on his 
benevolence to his dependents lives rather like a 
prince than a master in his family; his orders are 
received as favors, rather than duties; and the dis- 
tinction of approaching him is part of the reward for 
executing what is commanded by him. 

There is another circumstance in which my friend 
excels in his management, which is the manner of 
rewarding his servants : he has ever been of opinion 
that giving his cast clothes to be worn by valets has 
a very ill effect upon little minds, and creates a silly 
sense of equality between the parties, in persons 
affected only with outward things. I have heard him 
often 2:)leasant on this occasion, and describe a young 
gentleman abusing his man in that coat which a 
month or two before was the most pleasing distinction 
he was conscious of in himself. He would turn his 
discourse still more pleasantly upon the ladies' boun- 
ties of this kind ; and I have heard him say he knew 
a fine woman, who distributed rewards and punish- 



THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD. 51 

ments in giving becoming or unbecoming dresses to 
her maids. 

But my good friend is above these little instances 
of good-will, in bestowing only trifles on his servants ; 
a good servant to him is sure of having it in his 
choice very soon of being no servant at all. As I 
before observed, he is so good an husband,^ and 
knows so thoroughly that the skill of the purse is the 
cardinal virtue of this life, — I say, he knows so well 
that frugality is the support of generosity, that he 
can often spare a large fine when a tenement falls,^ 
and give that settlement to a good servant who has a 
mind to go into the world, or make a stranger pay 
the fine to that servant, for his more comfortable 
maintenance, if he stays in his service. 

A man of honor and generosity considers it would 
be miserable to himself to have no will but that of 
another, though it were of the best person breathing, 
and for that reason goes on as fast as he is able to 
put his servants into independent livelihoods. The 
greatest part of Sir Roger's estate is tenanted by 
persons who have served himself or his ancestors. 
It was to me extremely pleasant to observe the visit- 
ants from several parts to welcome his arrival into 
the country ; and all the difference that I could take 
notice of between the late servants who came to see 
him, and those who stayed in the family, was that 
these latter were looked upon as finer gentlemen and 
better courtiers. 

1. We still say to husband one's resources^ but the noun hus- 
band supposes a wife. 

2. A legal phrase. When a tenant of a knight made over his 
land or tenement to another he was required to pay the knight 
a fine of money. 



52 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

This manumission and placing them in a way of 
livelihood I look upon as only what is due to a good 
servant, which encouragement will make his successor 
be as diligent, as humble, and as ready as he was. 
There is something wonderful in the narrowness of 
those minds which can be pleased and be barren of 
bounty to those who please them. 

One might, on this occasion, recount the sense 
that great persons in all ages have had of the merit 
of their dependents, and the heroic services which 
men have done their masters in the extremity of their 
fortunes; and shown to their undone patrons that 
fortune was all the difference between them; but as I 
design this my speculation only as a gentle admoni- 
tion to thankless masters, I shall not go out of the 
occurrences of common life, but assert it as a general 
observation, that I never saw, but in Sir Roger's 
family, and one or two more, good servants treated 
as they ought to be. Sir Roger's kindness extends 
to their children's children, and this very morning he 
sent his coachman's grandson to prentice. I shall 
conclude this paper wdth an account of a picture in 
his gallery, where there are many which will deserve 
my future observation. 

At the very upper end of this handsome structure 
I saw the portraiture of two young men standing in 
a river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The 
person supported seemed half dead, but still so much 
alive as to show in his face exquisite joy and love 
towards the other. I thought the fainting figure 
resembled my friend Sir Roger: and looking at the 
butler, who stood by me, for an account of it, he in- 
formed me that the person in the liveiy was a servant 
of Sir Roger's, who stood on the shore while his mas- 



WILL WIMBLE. 53 

ter was swimming, and observing him taken with, 
some sudden ilhiess, and sink under water, jumped 
in and" saved him. He tokl me Sir Roger took off 
the dress ^ he was in as soon as he came home, and 
by a great bounty at that time, followed by his favor 
ever since, had made him master of that pretty seat 
which we saw at a distance as we came to this house. 
I remembered indeed Sir Roger said there lived a 
very worthy gentleman, to whom he was highly 
obliged, without mentioning anything further. Upon 
my looking a little dissatisfied at some part of the. 
picture, my attendant informed me that it was 
against Sir Roger's will, and at the earnest request 
of the gentleman himself, that he was drawn in the 
habit in which he had saved his master. 



VIII. WILL WIMBLE. 

Gratis anhelans, multa agendo nihil agens."^ 

pHiEDRUS, lib. II. fab. v. 3. 

As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir 
Roger before his house, a country fellow brought 
him a huge fish, which, he told him, Mr. William 
Wimble had caught that very morning; and that he 
presented it, with his service to him, and intended to 
come and dine with him. At the same time he de- 
livered a letter, which my friend read to me as soon 
as the messenger left him. 

"Sir Roger, — I desire you to accept of a jack, 
which is the best I have caught this season. I intend 

1. That is, the livery which was a badge of service. 

2. Out of breath for nothing, hard at work doing nothing. 



54 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

to come and stay with you a week, and see how the 
perch bite in the Black Kiver. I observed with some 
concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowling- 
green, that your whip wanted a lash to it; I will 
bring half a dozen with me that I twisted last week, 
which I hope will serve you all the time you are in 
the country. I have not been out of the saddle for 
six days last past, having been at Eton with Sir 
John's eldest son. He takes to his learning hugely. 
" I am, sir, your humble servant, 

"Will Wimble." 

This extraordinary letter, and message that accom- 
panied it, made me very curious to know the charac- 
ter and quality of the gentleman who sent them, 
which I found to be as follows. Will Wimble is 
younger brother to a baronet, and descended of the 
ancient family of the Wimbles.^ He is now between 
forty and fifty; but being bred to no business and 
born to no estate, he generally lives with his elder 
brother as superintendent of his game. He hunts a 
pack of dogs better than any man in the country, and 
is very famous for finding out a hare. He is ex- 
tremely well versed in all the little handicrafts of an 

1. In The Tatler, No. 256, Steele had already drawn almost 
the same portrait in his character of Mr. Thomas Gules of Giile 
Hall. " He was the cadet of a very ancient family ; and accord- 
ing to the principles of all the younger brothers of the said 
family, he had never sullied himself with business ; but had 
chosen rather to starve like a man of honor, than do anything 
beneath his quality. He produced several witnesses that he 
had never employed himself beyond the twisting of a whip, or 
the making of a pair of nut-crackers, in which he only M^orked 
for his diversion, in order to make a present now and then to 
his friends." 



WILL WIMBLE. 55 

idle man : he makes a may-fly to a miracle, and fur- 
nishes the whole country with angle-rods. As he is 
a good-natured officious fellow, and very much es- 
teemed upon account of his family, he is a welcome 
guest at every house, and keeps up a good correspon- 
dence among all the gentlemen about him. He car- 
ries a tulip-root in his pocket from one to another, or 
exchanges a puppy between a couple of friends that 
live perhaps in the opposite sides of the county. 
Will is a particular favorite of all the young heirs, 
whom he frequently obliges with a net that he has 
weaved, or a setting-dog that he has made ^ himself. 
He now and then presents a pair of garters of his own 
knitting to their mothers or sisters; and raises a great 
deal of mirth among them, by inquiring as often as 
he meets them how they wear. These gentleman-like 
manufactures and obliging little humors make Will 
the darling of the country. 

Sir Roger was proceeding in the character of him, 
when we saw him make up to us with tv/o or three 
hazel-twigs in his hand, that he had cut in Sir Roger's 
woods, as he came through them, in his way to the 
house. I was very much pleased to observe on one 
side the hearty and sincere welcome with which Sir 
Roger received him, and, on the other, the secret joy 
which his guest discovered at sight of the good old 
Knight. After the first salutes were over, Will 
desired Sir Roger to lend him one of his servants to 
carry a set of shuttlecocks he had with him in a little 
box to a lady that lived about a mile off, to whom it 
seems he had promised such a present for above this 
half year. Sir Roger's back was no sooner turned 
but honest Will began to tell me of a large cock- 
1. That is, trained a setter. 



56 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

pheasant that he had sprung in one of the neighbor- 
ing woods, with two or three other adventures of the 
same nature. Odd and uncommon characters are the 
game that I look for and most delight in ; for which 
reason I was as much pleased w^th the novelty of the 
person that talked to me, as he could be for his life 
with the springing of a pheasant, and therefore lis- 
tened to him with more than ordinary attention. 

In the midst of his discourse the bell rung to din- 
ner, where the gentleman I have been speaking of 
had the pleasure of seeing the huge jack he had caught 
served up for the first dish in a most sumptuous 
manner. Upon our sitting down to it he gave us a 
long account how he had hooked it, played with it, 
foiled it, and at length drew it out upon the bank, 
with several other particulars that lasted all the first 
course. A dish of wild fowl that came afterwards 
furnished conversation for the rest of the dinner, 
which concluded with a late invention of Will's for 
improving the quail-pipe. 

Upon withdrawing into my room after dinner, I 
was secretly touched with compassion towards the 
honest gentleman that had dined with us, and could 
not but consider, with a great deal of concern, how 
so good an heart and such busy hands were wholly 
employed in trifles ; that so much humanity should be 
so little beneficial to others, and so much industry so 
little advantageous to himself. The same temper of 
mind and application to affairs might have recom- 
mended him to the public esteem, and have raised 
his fortune in another station of life. What good to 
his country or himself might not a trader or mer- 
chant have done with such useful though ordinary 
qualifications? 



WILL WIMBLE. 57 

Will Wimble's is the case of many a younger 
brother of a great family, who had rather see their 
children starve like gentlemen than thrive in a trade 
or profession that is beneath their quality. This 
humor fills several parts of Europe with pride and 
beggary. It is the happiness of a trading nation, 
like ours, that the younger sons, though uncapable of 
any liberal art or profession, may be placed in such 
a way of life as may perhaps enable them to vie with 
the best of their family. Accordingly, we find sev- 
eral citizens that were launched into the world with 
narrow fortunes, rising by an honest industry to 
greater estates than those of their elder brothers. It 
is not improbable but Will was formerly tried at 
divinity, law, or physic ; and that finding his genius 
did not lie that way, his parents gave him up at 
length to his own inventions. But certainly, how- 
ever improper he might have been for studies of a 
higher nature, he was perfectly well turned for the 
occupations of trade and commerce. As I think this 
is a point which cannot be too much inculcated, I 
shall desire my reader to compare what I have here 
written with what I have said in my twenty -first 
speculation.^ 

1. In the twenty-first paper, or speculation, of The Spectator, 
Addison discusses the overstocking of the three great professions 
of divinity, law, and physic. 



58 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY 



IX. THE COVERLEY LINEAGE. 

Ahnormis sajiiens.^ 

Horace, Satires, II. ii. 3. 

I WAS tills morning walking in the gallery, when 
Sir Roger entered at the end opposite to me, and, 
advancing towards me, said he was glad to meet me 
among his relations the De Coverleys, and hoped I 
liked the conversation of so much good company, who 
^ere as silent as myself. I knew he alluded to the 
■({^pictures ; and, as he is a gentleman who does not a 
little value himself upon his ancient descent, I ex- 
pected he would give me some account of them. We 
were now arrived at the upper end of the gallery, 
when the Knight faced towards one of the pictures, 
and, as we stood before it, he entered into the mat- 
ter, after his blunt way of saying things as they occur 
to his imagination without regular introduction or 
care to preserve the appearance of chain of thought. 

"It is," said he, "worth wdiile to consider the 
force of dress, and how the persons of one age differ 
from those of another merely by that only. One 
may observe, also, that the general fashion of one 
age has been followed by one jiarticular set of people 
in another, and by them preserved from one genera- 
tion to another. Thus the vast jetting coat and 
small bonnet, which was the habit in Harry the Sev- 
enth's time, is kept on in the yeomen of the guard; 
not without a good and politic view, because they 
look a foot taller, and a foot and an half broader: 
besides that the cap leaves the face expanded, and 
consequently more terrible, and fitter to stand at the 
entrance of palaces. 

1. Wise, with a wisdom all his own. 



THE COVERLEY LINEAGE. 59. 

"TJiis predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after 
this manner, and his cheeks would be no larger than 
mine were he in a hat as I am. He was the last man 
that won a prize in the Tilt Yard (which is now a 
common street before Whitehall). You see the 
broken lance that lies there by his right foot: he 
shivered that lance of his adversary all to pieces; 
and, bearing himself, look you, sir, in this manner, 
at the same time he came within the target of the 
gentleman who rode against him, and taking him 
with incredible force before him on the pommel of his 
saddle, he in that manner rid the tournament over, 
with an air that showed he did it rather to perform 
the rule of the lists than expose his enemy : however, 
it appeared he knew how to make use of a victory, 
and, with a gentle trot, he marched up to a gallery 
where their mistress sat (for they 'were rivals) and 
let him down with laudable courtesy and pardonable 
insolence. I don't know but it might be exactly where 
the coffee-house is now. 

"You are to know this my ancestor was not only 
of a military genius, but fit also for the arts of peace, 
for he played on the bass-viol as well as any gentle- 
men at court: you see where his viol hangs by his 
basket-hilt sword. The action at the Tilt Yard you 
may be sure won the fair lady, who was a maid of 
honor, and the greatest beauty of her time; here she 
stands, the next picture. You see, sir, my great- 
great-great-grandmother has on the new-fashioned 
petticoat,^ except that the modern is gathered at the 
waist : my grandmother appears as if she stood in a 
large drum, whereas the ladies now walk as if they 

1. The new-fashioned petticoat widened gradually from tlie 
waist to the ground. 



60 SIE ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

were in a go-cart. For all this lady was bred at 
court, she became an excellent country wife, she 
brought ten children, and, when I show you the li- 
brary, you shall see, in her own hand (allowing for 
the difference of the language), the best receipt now 
in England both for an hasty-pudding and a white- 
pot. 

"If you please to fall back a little, because 'tis 
necessary to look at the three next pictures at one 
view; these are three sisters. She on the right 
hand, who is so very beautiful, died a maid; the 
next to her, still handsomer, had the same fate, 
against her will; this homely thing in the middle had 
both their portions added to her own, and was stolen 
by a neighboring gentleman, a man of stratagem and 
resolution, for he poisoned three mastiffs to come at 
her, and knocked down two deer-stealers in carrying 
her off. Misfortunes happen in all families. The 
theft of this romp and so much money was no great 
matter^ to our estate. But the next heir that pos- 
sessed it was this soft gentleman, whom you see 
there: observe the small buttons, the little boots, the 
laces, the slashes about his clothes, and, above all, 
the posture he is drawn in (which to be sure was his 
own choosing); you see he sits with one hand on a 
desk writing and looking as it were another way, like 
an easy writer, or a sonneteer. He was one of those 
that had too much wit to know how to live in the 
world: he was a man of no justice, but great good 
manners ; he ruined everybody that had anything to 
do with him, but never said a rude thing in his life : 
the most indolent person in the world, he would sign 
a deed that passed away half his estate with his 
1. That is, was no great gain. 



THE COVERLEY LINEAGE, 61 

gloves on, but would not put on his hat before a lady 
if it were to save his country. He is said to be the 
first that made love by squeezing the hand. He left 
the estate with ten thousand pounds debt upon it; 
but, however, by all hands I have been informed that 
he was every way the finest gentleman in the world. 
That debt lay heavy on our house for one generation ; 
but it was retrieved by a gift from that honest man 
you see there, a citizen of our name, but nothing at 
all akin to us. I know Sir Andrew Freeport has 
said behind my back that this man was descended 
from one of the ten children of the maid of honor I 
showed you above ; but it was never made out. We 
winked at the thing, indeed, because money was 
wanting at that time." 

Here I saw my friend a little embarrassed, and 
turned my face to the next portraiture. 

Sir Roger went on with his account of the gallery 
in the following manner. "This man" (pointing to 
him I looked at) "I take to be the honor of our 
house, Sir Humphrey de Coverley; he was in his 
dealings as punctual as a tradesman, and as generous 
as a gentleman. He would have thought himself as 
much uiidone by breaking his word, as if it were to 
be followed by bankruptcy. He served his country 
as knight of this shire ^ to his dying day. He found 
it no easy matter to maintain an integrity in his 
words and actions, even in things that regarded the 
offices which were incumbent upon him, in the care 
of his own affairs and relations of life, and therefore 
dreaded (though he had great talents) to go into 
employments of state, where he must be exposed to 
the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great 
1. Member of Parliament for this shire. 



62 SIR ROGER BE COVERLEY. 

ability were the distinguishing parts of his character; 
the latter, he had often observed, had led to the 
destruction of the former, and used frequently to 
lament that great and good had not the same signifi- 
cation. He was an excellent husbandman, but had 
resolved not to exceed such a degree of wealth: all 
above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years 
after the sum he aimed at for his own use was at- 
tained. Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to 
a decenrold age spent the life and fortune which was 
superfluous to himself in the service of his friends 
and neighbors." 

Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger 
ended the discourse of this gentleman by telling me, 
as we followed the servant, that this his ancestor was 
a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in 
the Civil Wars; "For," said he, "he was sent out of 
the field upon a private message the day before the 
battle of Worcester."^ 

The whim of narrowly escaping by having been 
within a day of danger, with other matters above 
mentioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss 
whether I was more delighted with my friend's wis- 
dom or simplicity. 

X. THE COVERLEY GHOST. 

TIjrror ubique animos, si/nul ipsa silentia terrent.'^ 

Vlrgil, ^neid, ii. 755. 

At a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among 
the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long walk of 

1. Fought September 3, 1651. 

2. A horror that is all about seizes on the rniud ; the very 
silence is startling. 



THE COVERLEY GHOST. 63 

aged elms, which are shot up so very high, that, 
when one passes under them, the rooks and crows 
that rest upon the tops of them seem to be cawing in 
another region. I am very much delighted with this 
sort of noise, which I consider as a kind of natural 
prayer to that Being who supplies the wants of his 
whole creation, and who, in the beautiful language 
of the Psalms, feedeth the young ravens that call 
upon Him.^ I like this retirement the better, be- 
cause of an ill report it lies under of being haunted ; 
for which reason (as I have been told in the family) 
no living creature ever walks in it besides the chap- 
lain. My good friend the butler desired me, with a 
very grave face, not to venture myself in it after 
sunset, for that one of the footmen had been almost 
frighted out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to 
him in the shape of a black horse without an head; 
to which he added, that about a month ago one of the 
maids coming home late that way with a pail of milk 
upon her head, heard such a rustling among the 
bushes that she let it fall. 

I was taking a walk in this place last night be- 
tween the hours of nine and ten, and could not but 
fancy it one of the most proper scenes in the world 
for a ghost to appear in. The ruins of the abbey are 
scattered up and down on every side, and half cov- 
ered with ivy and elder bushes, the harbors of sev- 
eral solitary birds, which seldom make their a2)pear- 
ance till the dusk of the evening. The place was 
formerly a churchyard, and has still several marks in 
it of graves and burying-places. There is such an 
echo among the old ruins and vaults, that if you 
stamp but a little louder than ordinary you hear the 
1. The Praver-book version of Psalm cxlvii. 2. 



64 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY, 

sound repeated. At the same time the walk of elms, 
with the croaking of the ravens, which from time to 
time are heard from the tops of them, looks exceed- 
ing solemn and venerable. These objects naturally 
raise seriousness and attention; and when night 
heightens the awfulness of the place, and pours out 
her supernumerary horrors upon everything in it, I 
do not at all wonder that weak minds fill it with 
spectres and apparitions. 

Mr. Locke, in his chapter of the Association of 
Ideas, has very curious remarks to show how, by the 
prejudice of education, one idea jof ten introduces into 
the mind a whole set that bear no resemblance to one 
another in the nature of things. Among several 
examples of this kind, he produces the following 
instance: — "The ideas of goblins and sprites have 
really no more to do with darkness than light : yet, 
let but a foolish maid inculcate these often on the 
mind of a child, and raise them there together, possi- 
bly he shall never be able to separate them again so 
long as he lives, but darkness shall ever afterwards 
bring with it those frightful ideas, and they shall be 
so joined that he can no more bear the one than the 
other." 1 

As I was walking in this solitude, where the dusk 
of the evening conspired with so many other occa- 
sions of terror, I observed a cow grazing not far from 
me, which an imagination that was apt to startle 
might easily have construed into a black horse with- 
out an head: and I dare say the poor footman lost 
his wits upon some such trivial occasion. 

My friend Sir Roger has often told me with a 
great deal of mirth, that at his first coming to his 

1. Essay on Human Understanding, by John Locke, ii. 33, § 10. 



,. "^ THE COVERLET GHOST. ^b 

estate, he found three parts of his house altogether 
useless; that the best room in it had the reputation 
of being haunted, and by that means was locked up ; 
that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so 
that he could not get a servant to enter it after eight 
o'clock at night; that the door of one of his cham- 
bers was nailed up, because there went a story in 
the family that a butler had formerly hanged himself 
in it ; and that his mother, who lived to a great age, 
had shut up half the rooms in the house, in which 
either her husband, a son, or daughter had died. 
The Knight seeing his habitation reduced to so small 
a compass, and himself in a manner shut out of his 
own house, upon the death of his mother ordered all 
the apartments to be flung open and exorcised by his 
chaplain, who lay in every room one after another, 
and by that means dissipated the fears which had so 
long reigned in the family. 

I should not have been thus particular upon these 
ridiculous horrors, did I not find them so very much 
prevail in all parts of the country. At the same 
time I think a person who is thus terrified with the 
imagination of ghosts and spectres much more reason- 
able than one, who, contrary to the reports of all his- 
torians, sacred and profane, ancient and modern, and 
to the traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance 
of spirits fabulous and groundless : could not I give 
myself up to this general testimony of mankind, I 
should to the relations of particular persons who are 
now living, and whom I cannot distrust in other mat- 
ters of fact. I might here add, that not only the 
historians, to whom we may join the poets, but like- 
wise the philosophers of antiquity have favored this 
opinion. Lucretius himself, though by the course of 



GQ SIR ROGER DE COVERLEV, 

his philosophy he was obliged to maintain that the 
soul did not exist separate from the body, makes no 
doubt of the reality of apparitions, and that men 
have often appeared after their death. This I think 
very remarkable : he was so jDressed with the matter 
of fact, which he could not have the confidence to 
deny, fliat he was forced to account for it by one of 
the most absurd unphilosophical notions that was 
ever started. He tells us that the surfaces of all 
bodies are perpetually flying off from their respective 
bodies, one after another; and that these surfaces 
or thin cases that included each other whilst they 
were joined in the body, like the coats of an onion, 
are sometimes seen entire when they are separated 
from it ; by which means we often behold the shapes 
and shadows of persons who are either dead or 
absent.^ 

I shall dismiss this paper with a story out of Jose- 
phus, not so much for the sake of the story itself as 
for the moral reflections with which the author con- 
cludes it, and which I shall here set down in his own 
words. " Glaphyra, the daughter of king Archelaus, 
after the death of her two first husbands (being mar- 
ried to a third, who was brother to her first husband, 
and so passionately in love with her, that he turned 
off his former wife to make room for this marriage), 
had a very odd kind of dream. She fancied that 
she saw her first husband coming towards her, and 
that she embraced him with great tenderness; when 
in the midst of the pleasure which she expressed 
at the sight of him, he reproached her after the 
following manner: ' Glaphyra,' says he, ' thou hast 
-^ntnade good the old saying, that women are not to be 
1. De Rerum Natura, iv. 34. 



A SUNDAY AT SIR ROGER'S. 67 

trusted. Was not I the husband of thy virginity? 
Have I not children b}'" thee? How couldst thou 
forget our loves so far as to enter into a second mar> 
riage, and after that into a third, nay to take for thy 
liusband a man who has so shamelessly crept /into the 
bed of his brother? However, for the sake of our 
past loves, I shall free, thee from thy j^resent re- 
proach, and make thee mine for ever.' Glaphyra 
told this dream to several women of her acquaintance, 
and died soon after. I thought this story might not 
be impertinent in this place, wherein I speak of those 
kings. Besides that, the example deserves to be 
taken notice of, as it contains a most certain proof 
of the innnortality of the soul, and of Divine Provi- 
dence. If any man thinks these facts incredible, let 
him enjoy his own opinion to himself, but let him 
not endeavor to disturb the belief of others, who by 
instances of this nature are excited to the study of 
virtue."! 

K 

XL A SUNDAY AT SIR ROGER'S. /' 
'AOavdrovs fxev irpwra Qiovs, pS/xci: ws Siofceirai, 

Pythagoras. 

I AM always very well pleased with a country Sun- 
day, and think, if keeping holy the seventh day were 
only a human institution, it would be the best method 
that could have been thought of for the polishing and 
civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country peo- 
ple would soon degenerate into a kind of savages and 

1. Josephus : The Antiquities of the Jews, xvii. 15, § 415. 

2. First to the immortal gods, as the law directs, 
Give reverence. 



68. SIR ROGER 1)E COVERLEY. 

barbarians, were there not such frequent returns of a 
stated time, in which the whole village meet together 
with their best faces, and in their cleanliest habits, 
to converse with one another upon indifferent sub- 
jects, hear their duties explained to them, and join 
together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sun- 
day clears away the rust of the whole week, not only 
as it refreshes in their minds the notions of religion, 
but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their 
most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities 
as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the 
village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as 
much in the churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 
'Change, the whole parish politics being generally 
discussed in that place, either after sermon or before 
the bell rinofs. 

My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, 
has beautified the inside of his church with several 
texts of his own choosing; he has likewise given a 
handsome pulpit cloth, and railed in the communion 
table at his own expense. He has often told me 
that, at his coming to his estate, he found his parish- 
ioners very irregular; and that in order to make 
them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every 
one of them a hassock and a Common Prayer Book : 
and at the same time employed an itinerant singing- 
master, who goes about the country for that purpose, 
to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the Psahns ; 
upon which they now very much value themselves, 
and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I 
have ever heard. 

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congrega- 
tion, he keeps them in very good order, and will suf- 
fer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for if by 



A SUNDAY AT SIR ROGER'S. 69 

chance he has been surprised into a short nap at ser- 
mon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and 
looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nod- 
ding, either wakes them himself, or sends his servant 
to them. Several other of the old Knight's particu- 
larities break out upon these occasions: sometimes 
he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing 
Psalms half a minute after the rest of the cons^res^a- 
tion have done with it ; sometimes, when he is pleased 
with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces 
"Amen" three or four times to the same prayer; 
and sometimes stands up when everybody else is 
upon their knees, to count the congregation, or see if 
any of his tenants are missing. 

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my 
old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to 
one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and 
not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews 
it seems is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and 
at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. 
This authority of the Knight, though exerted in that 
odd manner which accompanies him in all circum- 
stances of life, has a very good effect upon the par- 
ish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridi- 
culous in his behavior ; besides that the general good 
sense and worthiness of his character makes his friends 
observe these little singularities as foils that rather 
set off than blemish his good qualities. 

As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes 
to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The 
Knight walks down from his seat in the chancel be- 
tween a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing 
to him on each side, and every now and then inquires 
how such an one's wife, or mother, or son, or father 



70 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

do, whom he does not see at church, — which is un- 
derstood as a secret reprimand to the person that is 
absent. 

The chaplain has often told me, that upon a cate- 
chising day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a 
boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be 
given him next day for his encouragement, and some- 
times accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his 
mother. Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a 
year to the clerk's place; and that he may encourage 
the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the 
church service, has promised, upon the death of the 
l^resent incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it 
according to merit. 

The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his 
chajilain, and their mutual concurrence in doing- 
good, is the more remarkable, because the very next 
village is famous for the differences and contentions 
that rise between the parson and the squire, who live 
in a perpetual state of war. The parson is always 
preaching at the squire, and the squire, to be re- 
venged on the parson, never comes to church. The 
squire has made all his tenants atheists and tithe- 
stealers; while the parson instructs them every Sun- 
day in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to 
them in almost every sermon that he is a better man 
than his patron. In short, matters are come to such 
an extremity, that the squire has not said his prayers 
either in public or private this half year; and tliat 
the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his 
manners, to pray for him in the face ol the whole 
congregation. 

Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the 
country, are very fatal to the ordinary people; who 



SIR ROGER IN LOVE. 71 

are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay 
as much deference to the understanding of a man of 
an estate as of a man of learning; and are very 
hardly brought to regard any truth, how important 
soever it may be, that is preached to them, when 
they know there are several men of five hundred a 
year who do not believe it. 

XII. SIR ROGER IN LOVE. ' 

Hcerent infix i pectore vultus.^ 

Virgil, ^neid, iv. 4. 

In my first description of the company in which I 
pass most of my time it may be remembered that I 
mentioned a great affliction which my friend Sir 
Roger had met with in his youth : which was no less 
than a disappointment in love. It happened this 
evening that we fell into a very pleasing walk at a 
distance from his house : as soon as we came into it, 
''It is," quoth the good old man, looking round him 
with a smile, "very hard, that any part of my land 
should be settled upon one who has used me so ill as 
the perverse Widow did; and yet I am sure I could 
not see a sprig of any bough of this whole walk of 
trees, but I should reflect upon her and her severity. 
She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in 
the world. You are to know this was the place 
wherein I used to muse upon her ; and by that cus- 
tom I can never come into it, but the same tender 
sentiments revive in my mind as if I had actually 
walked with that beautiful creature under these 
shades. I have been fool enough to carve her name 
on the bark of several of these trees ; so unhappy is 
1. Her looks abide deep graven in his heart. 



72 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

the condition of men in love to attempt the removing 
of their passion by the metliods which serve only to 
imprint it deeper. She has certainly the finest hand 
of any woman in the world." 

Here followed a profound silence; and I was not 
disjileased to observe my friend falling so naturally 
into a discourse which I had ever before taken notice 
he industriously avoided. After a very long pause 
he entered upon an account of this great circumstance 
in his life, with an air which I thought raised my 
idea of him above what I had ever hr-d before ; and 
gave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his, 
before it received that stroke which has ever since 
affected his words and actions. But he went on as 
follows : — 

"I came to my estate in my twenty-second yea.v, 
and resolved to follow tlie steps of the most worthy 
of my ancestors who have inhabited this spot of earth 
before me, in all the methods of hospitality and good 
neighborhood, for the sake of my fame, and in coun- 
try sports and recreations, for the sake of my health. 
In my twenty-third year I was obliged to serve as 
sheriff of the county; and in my servants, officers, 
and whole equipage, indulged the pleasure of a young 
man (who did not think ill of his own person) in tak- 
ing that public occasion of showing my figure ^ and 
behavior to advantage. You may easily imagine to 
yourself what appearance I made, who am pretty 
tall, rid well, and was very well dressed, at the head 
of a whole county, with music before me, a feather 
in my hat, and my hojse well bitted. I can assure 
you I was not a little pleased with the kind looks and 
glances I had from all the balconies and windows as 

1. On state occasions the sheriff appeared in court dress. 



SIR ROGER IN LOVE. 73 

I rode to the hall where the assizes were held. But 
when I came there, a beautiful creature in a widow's 
habit sat in court, to hear the event of a cause con- 
cerning her dower. This commanding creature (who 
was born for destruction of all who behold her) put 
on such a resi^jnation in her countenance, and bore 
the whispers of all around the court, with such a 
pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and then recovered 
herself from one eye to another, till she was perfectly 
confused by meeting something so wistful in all she 
encountered, that at last, with a murrain to her, she 
cast her bewitching eye upon me. I no sooner met 
it but I bowed like a great surprised booby; and 
knowing her cause to be the first which came on, I 
cried, like a captivated calf as I was, 'Make way for 
the defendant's witnesses.' This sudden partiality 
made all the county immediately see the sheriff also 
was become a slave to the fine widow. Durins: the 
time her cause was upon trial, she behaved herself,' I 
warrant you, with such a deep attention to her busi- 
ness, took opportunities to have little billets handed 
to her counsel, then would be in such a pretty confu- 
sion, occasioned, you must know, by acting before so 
much company, that not only I but the whole court 
was prejudiced in her favor; and all that the next 
heir to her husband had to urge was thought so 
groundless and frivolous, that when it came to her 
counsel to reply, there was not half so much said as 
every one besides in the court thought he could have 
urged to her advantage. You must understand, sir, 
this perverse woman is one of those unaccountable 
creatures, that secretly rejoice in the admiration of 
men, but indulge themselves in no further conse- 
quences. Hence it is that she has ever had a train 



74 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

of admirers, and she removes from her slaves in town 
to those in the country, according to the seasons of 
the year. She is a reading lady, and far gone in the 
jjleasures of friendship: she is always accompanied 
by^ confidante, who is witness to her daily protesta- 
tions against our sex, and consequently a bar to her 
first steps towards love, ujion the strength of her own 
maxims and declarations. 

''However, I must needs say this accomplished 
mistress of mine has distinguished me above the rest, 
and has been known to declare Sir Roger de Cover- 
ley was the tamest and most human of all the brutes 
in the country. I was told she said so by one who 
thought he rallied me ; but upon the strength of this 
slender encouragement of being thought least detesta- 
ble, I made new liveries, new-paired my coach-horses, 
sent them all to town to be bitted, and taught to 
throw their legs well, and move all together, before I 
pretended to cross the country and wait upon her. 
As soon as I thought ni}^ retinue suitable to the char- 
acter of my fortune and youth, I set out from hence 
to make my addresses. \ The particular skill of this 
lady has ever been to inflame your wishes, and yet 
command res23ect. To make her mistress of this art, 
she has a greater share of knowledge, wit, and good 
sense than is usual even among men of merit. Then 
she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If you 
won't let her go on with a certain artifice with her 
eyes, and the skill of beauty, she will arm herself 
with her real charms, and strike you with admira- 
tion. It is certain that if you were to behold the 
whole woman, there is that dignity in her aspect, 
that composure in her motion, that complacency in 
her manner, that if her form makes you hope, her 



SIR ROGER IN LOVE. 75 

merit makes you fear. But theu again, she is such 
a desperate scholar, that no country gentleman can 
approach her without being a jest. As I was going 
to tell you, when I came to her house I was admitted 
to her presence with great civility ; at the same time 
she placed herself to be first seen by me in such an 
attitude, as I think you call the posture of a picture, 
that she discovered new charms, and I at last came 
towards her with such an awe as made me speechless. 
This she no sooner observed but she made her advan- 
tage of it, and began a discourse to me concerning 
love and honor, as they both are followed by 23retend- 
ers, and the real votaries to them. When she had 
discussed these points in a discourse, which I verily 
believe was as learned as the best philosopher in 
Europe could possibly make, she asked me whether 
she was so happy as to fall in with my sentiments on 
these important particulars. Her confidante sat by 
her, and upon my being in the last confusion and 
silence, this malicious aid of hers turning to her 
says, 'I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses 
upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver all 
his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases to 
speak. ' They both kept their countenances, and after 
I had sat half an hour meditating how to behave 
before such profound casuists, I rose up and took my 
leave. Chance has since that time thrown me very 
often in her way, and she as often has directed a dis- 
course to me which I do not understand. This bar- 
barity has kept me ever at a distance from the most 
beautiful object my eyes ever beheld. It is thus 
also she deals with all mankind, and you mu"^t make 
love to her, as you would conquer the sphinx, by 
posing her. But were she like other women, and 



76 SIR ROGER DE. COVERLEY. 

that there were any talking to her, how constant must 
the pleasure of that man be, who could converse with 
a creature — But, after all, you may be sure, her 
heart is fixed on some one or other; and yet I have 
been credibly informed — but who can believe half 
that is said? After she had done speaking to me, 
she put her hand to her bosom and adjusted her 
tucker. Then she cast her eyes a little down, upon 
my beholding her too earnestly. They say she sings 
excellently: her voice in her ordinary speech has 
something in it inexpressibly sweet. You must know 
I dined with her at a public table the day after I 
first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy ^ in the 
eye of all the gentlemen in the country : she has 
certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. 
I can assure you, sir, were you to behold her, you 
would be in the same condition ; for as her speech is 
music, her form is angelic. But I find I grow irreg- 
ular while I am talking of her; but indeed it would 
be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. 
Oh the excellent creature ! she is as inimitable to all 
women as she is inaccessible to all men." 

I found my friend begin to rave, and insensibly 
led him towards the house, that we might be joined 
by some other company; and am convinced that the 

1. A favorite dish of the seventeenth century. The following 
recipe for preparing it is from A Closet of Rarities, 1706. 
" Take about a dozen new-laid eggs, beat them up with three 
pints of cream, strain them through a coarse linen cloth, and 
put in of the strained juices of endive, spinach, sorrel, and 
tansy, each three spoonfuls ; half a grated nntmeg, four ounces 
of fine sugar, and a little salt and rose-water. Put it with a 
slight laying of butter under it into a shallow pewter dish, and 
bake it in a moderately heated oven. Scrape over it loaf sugar, 
sprinkle rose-water, and serve it up." 



THE COVERLEY ECONOMY. 77 

Widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency 
which appears in some parts of my friend's discourse; 
though he has so much command of himself as not 
directly to mention her, yet according to that [pas- 
sage] of Martial, which one knows not how to render 
in English, D^lm tacet hanc loquitur.^ I shall end 
this paper with that whole epigram, which represents 
with much humor my honest friend's condition. 

Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Naavia Rufo, 
Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur : 

Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est 
Nsevia ; si non sit Naevia, mutus erit. 

Seri beret hesterna patri ciim luce salutem, 
Njevia lux, inquit, Nsevia lumen, ave. 

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk, 
Still he can nothing' but of Naevia talk ; 
Let him eat, drink, ask qiaestions, or dispute, 
Still he must speak of Naevia, or be mute ; 
He writ to his father, ending with this line, 
" I am, my lovely Naevia, ever thine." 



XIII. THE COVERLEY ECONOMY. 

Paupertatis pudor etfuga? 

Horace, Epistles, I. xviii. 24. 

Economy in our affairs has the same effect upon 
our fortunes which good breeding has upon our con- 
versations. • There is a pretending behavior in both 
cases, which, instead of making men esteemed, ren- 
ders them both miserable and contemptible. We 
had yesterday at Sir Roger's a set of country gentle- 
men who dined with him : and after dinner the glass 

1. Book I. Epigram 69. While he is silent he is speaking of 
her. 
• 2. The shame and dread of poverty. 



78 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

was taken, by those who pleased, pretty plentifully. 
Among others I observed a person of a tolerable 
good aspect, who seemed to be more greedy of liquor 
than any of the company, and yet, methought, he did 
not taste it with delight. As he grew warm, he was 
suspicious of everything that was said; and as he 
advanced towards being fuddled, his humor grew 
worse. At the same time his bitterness seemed to 
be rather an inward dissatisfaction in his own mind 
than any dislike he had taken at the company. 
Upon hearing his name, I knew him to be a gentle- 
man of a considerable fortune in this county, but 
greatly in debt. What gives the unhappy man this 
peevishness of spirit, is, that his estate is dipped, 
and is eating out with usury ; and yet he has not the 
heart to sell any part of it. His proud stomach, at 
the cost of restless nights, constant inquietudes, dan- 
ger of affronts, and a thousand nameless inconven- 
iences, preserves this canker in his fortune, rather 
than it shall be said he is a man of fewer hundreds a 
year than he has been commonly rej^uted. Thus he 
endures the torment of poverty, to avoid the name of 
being less rich. If you go to his house you see great 
plenty, but served in a manner that shows it is all 
unnatural, and that the master's mind is not at 
home. There is a certain waste and carelessness in 
the air of everything, and the whole appears but 
a covered indigence, a magnificent poverty. That 
neatness and cheerfulness which attends the table of 
him who lives within compass is wanting, and ex- 
changed for a libertine way of service in all about 
him. 

This gentleman's conduct, though a very common 
way of management, is as ridiculous as that officer's 



THE COVERLEY ECONOMY. 79 

would be, who liacl but few men under his command, 
and should take the charge of an extent of country 
rather than of a small pass. To pay for, personate, 
and keep in a man's hands a greater estate than he 
really has, is of all others the most unpardonable 
vanity, and must in the end reduce the man who is 
guilty of it to dishonor. Yet if we look round us in 
any county of Great Britain, we shall see many in 
this fatal error: if that may be called by so soft a 
name which proceeds from a false shame of appearing 
what they really are, when the contrary behavior 
would in a short time advance them to the condition 
which they pretend to. 

Laertes has fifteen hundred pounds a year, which 
is mortgaged for six thousand pounds ; but it is im- 
possible to convince him that if he sold as much as 
would pay off tliat debt he would save four shillings 
in the pound, ^ which he gives for the vanity of being 
the reputed master of it. Yet if Laertes did this, 
he would perhaps be easier in his own fortune; but 
then Irus, a fellow of yesterday, who has but twelve 
hundred a year, would be his equal. Rather than 
this shall be, Laertes goes on to bring well-born beg- 
gars into the world, and every twelve month charges 
his estate with at least one year's rent more by the 
birth of a child. 

Laertes and Irus are neighbors, whose ways of 
living are an abomination to each other. Irus is 
moved by the fear of poverty, and Laertes by the 
shame of it. Though the motive of action is of so 
near affinity in both, and may be resolved into this, 
"That to each of them poverty is the greatest of 
all evils," yet are their manners very widely differ- 
1. The rate of the land tax. 



80 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

ent. Shame of poverty makes Laertes launch into 
unnecessary equipage, vain expense, and lavish en- 
tertainments ; fear of poverty makes Irus allow him- 
self only plain necessaries, appear without a servant, 
sell his own corn, attend his laborers, and be himself 
a laborer. Shame of poverty makes Laertes go 
every day a step nearer to it, and fear of poverty 
stirs up Irus to make every day some further prog- 
ress from it. 

These different motives produce the excesses which 
men are guilty of in the negligence of and pro- 
vision for themselves. Usury, stock- jobbing, extor- 
tion, and oppression have their seed in the dread of 
want; and vanity, riot, and prodigality, from the 
shame of it: but both these excesses are infinitely 
below the pursuit of a reasonable creature. After 
we have taken care to command so much as is neces- 
sary for maintaining ourselves in the order of men 
suitable to our character, the care of superfluities is 
a vice no less extravagant than the neglect of neces- 
saries would have been before. 

Certain it is, that they are both out of nature, 
when she is followed with reason and good sense. It 
is from this reflection that I always read Mr. Cowley 
with the greatest pleasure. His magnanimity is as 
much above that of other considerable men as his 
understanding; and it is a true distinguishing spirit 
in the elegant author^ who published his works, to 
dwell so much upon the temper of his mind and the 
moderation of his desires. By this means he has ren- 
dered his friend as amiable as famous. That state of 
life which bears the face of poverty with Mr. Cow- 

1. Dr. Thomas Sprat, the Bishop of Rochester, who introduced 
Cowley's works with a Life. 



THE COVERLEY ECONOMY. 81 

ley's great Vulgar ^ is admirably described ; and it is 
no small satisfaction to those of the same turn of 
desire, that he produces the authority of the wisest 
men of the best age of the world to strengthen his 
opinion of the ordinary pursuits of mankind. 

It would methinks be no ill maxim of life, if ac- 
cording to that ancestor of Sir Koger whom I lately 
mentioned, every man would point to himself what 
sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by 
this means cheat himself into a tranquillity on this 
side of that expectation, or convert what he should 
get above it to nobler uses than his own pleasures or 
necessities. This temper of mind would exempt a 
man from an ignorant envy of restless men above 
him, and a more inexcusable contempt of happy men 
below him. This would be sailing by some compass, 
living with some design; but to be eternally bewil- 
dered in prospects of future gain, and putting on 
unnecessary armor against improbable blows of for- 
tune, is a mechanic being which has not good sense 
for its direction, but is carried on by a sort of ac- 
quired instinct towards things below our considera- 
tion, and unworthy our esteem. 

It is possible that the tranquillity I now enjoy at 
Sir Roger's may have created in me this way of 
thinking, which is so abstracted from the common 
relish of the world : but as I am now in a pleasing 
arbor, surrounded with a beautiful landscape, I find 
no inclination so strong as to continue in these man- 
sions, so remote from the ostentatious scenes of life ; 

1. See Cowley's Paraphrase of Horace's ode, Odi Profanum 

Vulgus : — 

•' Hence, ye profane, I hate ye all, 
Both the great vulgar and the smalL" 



82 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

and am at this present writing philosopher enough to 
conclude with Mr. Cowley, 

If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat, 
With any wish so mean as to be great, 
Continue, Heaven, still from me to remove 
The humble blessings of that life I love ! ^ 



XIV. BODILY EXERCISE. 

JJt sit mens sana in corpore sano.'^ 

Juvenal, Satire x. 356. 

Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a 
man submits to for his livelihood, or that which he 
undergoes for his pleasure. The latter of them gen- 
erally changes the name of labor for that of exercise, 
but differs only from ordinary labor as it rises from 
another motive. 

A country life abounds in both these kinds of labor, 
and for that reason gives a man a greater stock 
of health, and consequently a more perfect enjoy- 
ment of himself, than any other way of life. I con- 
sider the body as a system of tubes and glands, or, 
to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and 
strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful a 
manner as to make a proper engine for the soul to 
work with. This description does not only compre- 
hend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, nerves, and 
arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which 
is a composition of fibres, that are so many impercep- 
tible tubes or pipes interwoven on all sides with in- 
visible glands or strainers. 

This general idea of a human body, without con- 

1. From Cowley's Essay Of Greatness. 

2. Pray for a sound mind in a sound body. 



BODILY EXERCISE. 83 

sidering' it in its niceties of anatomy, lets us see how 
absolutely necessary labor is for the right preserva- 
tion of it. There must be frequent motions and 
agitations, to mix, digest, and separate the juices 
contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse that 
infinitude of pipes and strainers, of which it is com- 
posed, and to give their solid parts a more firm and 
lasting tone. Labor or exercise ferments the humors, 
casts them into their proper channels, throws oft* 
redundancies, and helps nature in those secret distri- 
butions, without which the body cannot subsist in its 
vigor, nor the soul act with cheerfulness. 

I might here mention the effects which this has 
upon all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the 
understanding clear, the imagination untroubled, and 
refining those spirits that are necessary for the proper 
exertion of our intellectual faculties, during the pres- 
ent laws of union between soul and body. It is to a 
neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the 
spleen which is so frequent in men of studious and 
sedentary tempers, as well as the vapors to which 
those of the other sex are so often subject. 

Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our 
well-being, nature would not have made the body so 
proper for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, 
and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily pro- 
duce those compressions, extensions, contortions, dila- 
tations, and all other kinds of motions that are neces- 
sary for the preservation of such a system of tubes 
and glands as has been before mentioned. And that 
we might not want inducements to engage us in such 
an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it 
is so ordered that nothing valuable can be procured 
without it. Not to mention riches and honor, even 



84 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

food and raiment are not to be come at without the 
toil of the hands and sweat of the brows. Providence 
furnishes materials but expects that we should work 
them up ourselves. The earth must be labored ^ be- 
fore it gives its increase, and when it is forced into 
its several products, how many hands must they pass 
through before they are fit for use ! Manufactures, 
trade, and agriculture naturally employ more than 
nineteen parts of the species in twenty: and as for 
those who are not obliged to labor, by the condition 
in which they are born, they are more miserable than 
the rest of mankind unless they indulge themselves in 
that voluntary labor which goes by the name of exer- 
cise. 

My friend Sir Koger has been an indefatigable 
man in business of this kind, and has hung several 
parts of his house with the trophies of his former 
labors. The walls of his great hall are covered with 
the horns of several kinds of deer that he has killed 
in the chase, which he thinks the most valuable furni- 
ture of his house, as they afford him frequent topics 
of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. 
At the lower end of the hall is a large otter's skin 
stuffed with hay, which his mother ordered to be 
hung up in that manner, and the Knight looks upon 
with great satisfaction, because it seems he was but 
nine years old when his dog killed him. A little 
room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal filled 
with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which 
the Knight has made great havoc in the woods, and 
destroyed many thousands of pheasants, partridges, 
and woodcocks. His stable doors are patched with 
noses that belonged to foxes of the Knight's own 
1. Observe the analogous use of "laborer." 



BODILY EXERCISE. 85 



hunting down. Sir Roger showed me one of them 
that for distinction's sake has a brass nail struck 
through it, which cost him about fifteen hours' rid- 
ing, carried him through half a dozen counties, killed 
him a brace of geldings, and lost above half his dogs. 
This the Knight looks upon as one of the greatest 
exploits of his life. The perverse Widow, whom I 
have given some account of, was the death of several 
foxes; for Sir Roger has told me that in the course 
of his amours he patched the western door of his 
stable. Whenever the Widow was cruel, the foxes 
were sure to pay for it. In proportion as his passion 
for the Widow abated and old age came on, he left 
off foxhunting; but a hare is not yet safe that sits 
within ten miles of his house. 

There is no kind of exercise which I would so rec- 
ommend to my readers of both sexes as this of rid- 
ing, as there is none which so much conduces to 
health, and is every way accommodated to the body, 
according to the idea which I have given of it. Doc- 
tor Sydenham is very lavish in its praises; and if the 
English reader will see the mechanical effects of it 
described at length, he may find them in a book pub- 
lished not many years since under the title of Medi- 
cina Gymnastica.^ For my own part, when I am in 
town, for want of these opportunities, I exercise 
myself an hour every morning upon a dumb-bell that 
is placed in a corner of my room, and pleases me the 
more because it does every thing I require of it in 
the most profound silence. My landlady and her 
daughters are so well acquainted with my hours of 
exercise, that they never come into my room to dis- 
turb me whilst I am ringing. 

1. Medicina Gymnastica ; or a Treatise concerning the Power of 
Exercise. By Francis Fuller, M. A. 



86 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

When I was some years younger than I am at 
present, I used to employ myself in a more laborious 
diversion, which I learned from a Latin treatise of 
exercises^ that is written with great erudition; it 
is there called the o-KLo/jLaxia, or the fighting with 
a man's own shadow, and consists in the bran- 
dishing of two short sticks grasped in each hand, and 
loaden with plugs of lead at either end. This opens 
the chest, exercises the limbs, and gives a man all 
the pleasure of boxing, without the blows. I could 
wish that several learned men would lay out that 
time which they employ in controversies and disputes 
about nothing, in this method of fighting with their 
own shadows. It might conduce very much to evapo- 
rate the spleen, which makes them uneasy to the pub- 
lic as well as to themselves. 

To conclude: As I am a compound of soul and 
body, I consider myself as obliged to a double scheme 
of duties ; and I think I have not fulfilled the business 
of the day when I do not thus employ the one in 
labor and exercise, as well as the other in study and 
contemplation. 

XV. THE COVERLEY HUNT. 

I Yocat ingenti clamore Cithceron, 

Taygetique canes.^ 

Virgil, Georgics, iii. 43. 

Those who have searched into human nature ob- 
serve, that nothing so much shows the nobleness of 
the soul, as that its felicity consists in action. 

1. A rtis Gymnasticce apud antiqiws. Venice, 1509. 

2. Cithseron calls aloud with boisterous voice, 
And the hounds of Taygetus bay. 



THE COVERLET HUNT. 87 

Every man has such an active prmciple in him, that 
he will find out something to employ himself upon, 
in whatever place or state of life he is posted. I 
have heard of a gentleman who was under close con- 
finement in the Bastile seven years; during which 
time he amused himself in scattering a few small pins 
about his chamber, gathering them up again, and 
placing them in different figures on the arm of a 
great chair. He often told his friends afterwards, 
that unless he had found out this piece of exercise, 
he verily believed he should have lost his senses. 

After what has been said, I need not inform my 
readers, that Sir Roger, with whose character I hope 
they are at present pretty well acquainted,^ has in 
his youth gone through the whole course of those 
rural diversions which the country abounds in; and 
which seem to be extremely well suited to that labo- 
rious industry a man may observe here in a far 
greater degree than in towns and cities. I have 
before hinted at some of my friend's exploits: he has 
in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridges 
in a season; and tired many a salmon with a line 
consisting but of a single hair. The constant thanks 
and good wishes of the neighborhood always attended 
him on account of his remarkable enmity towards 
foxes ; having destroyed more of those vermin in one 
year than it was thought the whole country could 
have produced. Indeed, the Knight does not scruple 
to own among his most intimate friends, that in 
order to establish his reputation this way, he has 
secretly sent for great numbers of them out of other 

1. This reads like the sentence of a fresh contributor to the 
series. One woukl scarcely expect Addison or Steele, who had 
been closely occupied with the theme, to interject the phrase. 



88 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

counties, which he used to turn loose about the coun- 
try by night, that he might the better signalize him- 
self in their destruction the next day. His hunting 
horses were the finest and best managed in all these 
parts: his tenants are still full of the praises of a 
gray stone horse that unhappily staked himself sev- 
eral years since, and was buried with great solemnity 
in the orchard. 

Sir Roger, being at present too old for foxhunt- 
ing, to keep himself in action, has disposed of his 
beagles and got a pack of stop-hounds. What these 
want in s]3eed he endeavors to make amends for by 
the deepness of their mouths and the variety of their 
notes, which are suited in such manner to each other 
that the whole cry makes up a complete concert.^ 
He is so nice in this particular, that a gentleman 
having made him a present of a very fine hound the 
other day, the Knight returned it by the servant with 
a great many expressions of civility ; but desired him 
to tell his master that the dog he had sent was indeed 
a most excellent bass, but that at present he only 
wanted a counter-tenor. Could I believe my friend 

1. " As to dogs, tlie difference is great between a hunt now and 
a hunt in The Spectator's time. Since the early years of the last 
century, the modern foxhound has come into existence, while the 
beagle and the deep-flewed southern hare-hound, nearly resem- 
bling the bloodhound, with its sonorous note, has become almost 
extinct. Absolutely extinct also is the old care to attune the 
voices of the pack. Henry II., in his breeding of hounds, is said 
to have been careful not only that they should be fleet, but also 
' well-tongued and consonous ; ' the same care in Elizabeth's 
time is, in the passage quoted by The Spectator, attributed by 
Shakespeare to Duke Theseus ; and the paper itself shows that 
care was taken to match the voices of a pack in the reign also 
of Queen Anne. This has now been for some time absolutely 
disregarded." — Note in Morley's edition of The Spectator. 



THE COVERLEY HUNT. 89 

had ever read Shakespeare I should certainly con- 
clude he had taken the hint from Theseus in the 
Midsummer Night's Dream: — 

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung 
With ears that sweep away the morning- dew ; 
Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; 
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, 
Each under each : a cry more tuneable 
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer' d with horn. 

Sir Roger is so keen at this sport that he has been 
out almost every day since I came down; and upon 
the chaplain's offering to lend me his easy pad, I was 
prevailed on yesterday morning to make one of the 
company. I was extremely pleased, as we rid along, 
to observe the general benevolence of all the neigh- 
borhood towards my friend. The farmers' sons 
thought themselves happy if they could open a gate 
for the good old Knight as he passed by ; which he 
generally requited with a nod or a smile, and a kind 
inquiry after their fathers and uncles. 

After we had rid about a mile from home, we 
came upon a large heath, and the sportsmen began 
to beat. They had done so for some time, when, as 
I was at a little distance from the rest of the com- 
pany, I saw a hare pop out from a small furze-brake 
almost under my horse's feet. I marked the way she 
took, which I endeavored to make the company sen- 
sible of by extending my arm ; but to no purpose, till 
Sir Roger, who knows that none of my extraordinary 
motions are insignificant, rode up to me, and asked 
me if puss was gone that way. Upon my answer- 
ing "Yes," he immediately called in the dogs and 
put them upon the scent. As the}^ were going off, 
I heard one of the country-fellows muttering to his 



90 SIR ROGER BE COVERLEY. 

companion that 't was a wonder they had not lost all 
their sport, for want of the silent gentleman's crying 
"Stole away!" 

This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made 
me withdraw to a rising ground, from whence I could 
have the picture of the whole chase, without the 
fatigue of keeping in with the hounds. The hare 
immediately threw them above a mile behind her; 
but I was pleased to find that instead of running 
straight forwards, or in hunter's language, ''Flying 
the country," as I was afraid she might have done, 
she wheeled about, and described a sort of circle 
round the hill where I had taken my station, in such 
manner as gave me a very distinct view of the 
sport. I could see her first pass by, and the dogs 
some time afterwards unravelling the whole track she 
had made, and following her through all her doubles. 
I was at the same time delighted in observing that 
deference which the rest of the pack j^aid to each 
particular hound, according to the character he had 
acquired amongst them: if they w^ere at fault, and 
an old hound of reputation opened but once, he was 
immediately followed by the whole cry ; while a raw 
dog, or one who was a noted liar, might have yelped 
his heart out, without being taken notice of. 

The hare now, after having squatted two or three 
times, and been put up again as often, came still 
nearer to the place where she was at first started. 
The dogs pursued her, and these were followed by 
the joll}^ Knight, who rode upon a white gelding, 
encompassed by his tenants and servants, and cheer- 
ing his hounds with all the gaiety of five-and-twenty. 
One of the sportsmen rode up to me, and told me 
that he was sure the chase was almost at an end, 



THE COVER LEY HUNT. 91 

because the old dogs, which had hitherto lain behind, 
now headed the pack. The fellow was in the right. 
Our hare took a large field just under us, followed by 
the full cry "In view." I must confess the bright- 
ness of the weather, the cheerfulness of everything 
around me, the chiding of the hounds, which was 
returned upon us in a double echo from two neigh- 
boring hills, with the holloaing of the sportsmen, 
and the sounding of the horn, lifted my spirits into 
a most lively pleasure, which I freely indulged 
because I was sure it was innocent. If I was under 
any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, 
that was now quite spent, and almost within the 
reach of her enemies; when the huntsman, getting 
forward, threw down his pole before the dogs. They 
were now within eight yards of that game which they 
had been pursuing for almost as many hours ; yet on 
the signal before-mentioned they all made a sudden 
stand, and though they continued opening as much 
as before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the 
pole. At the same time Sir Roger rode forward, 
and alighting, took up the hare in his arms; which 
he soon delivered up to one of his servants with an 
order, if she could be kept alive, to let her go in his 
great orchard ; where it seems he has several of these 
prisoners of war, who live together in a very com- 
fortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see the 
discipline of the pack, and the good-nature of the 
Knight, who could not find in his heart to murder a 
creature that had given him so much diversion. 

As we were returning home, I remembered that 
Monsieur Pascal, in his most excellent discourse on 
the Misery of Man, tells us, that all our endeavors 
after greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of 



92 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEV. 

being surrounded by a multitude of persons and 
affairs that may binder us from looking into our- 
selves, which is a view we cannot bear. He after- 
wards goes on to show that our love of sports comes 
from the same reason, and is particularly severe upon 
hunting. "What," says he, "unless it be to drown 
thought, can make men throw away so much time 
and pains upon a silly animal, which they might buy 
cheaper in the market? " The foregoing reflection is 
certainly just, when a man suffers his whole mind to 
be drawn into his sports, and altogether loses himself 
in the woods ; but does not affect those who propose 
a far more laudable end from this exercise, I mean 
the preservation of health, and keeping all the organs 
of the soul in a condition to execute her orders. 
Had that incomparable person, whom I last quoted, 
been a little more indulgent to himself in this point, 
the world might probably have enjoyed him much 
longer ; whereas through too great an application to 
his studies in his youth, he contracted that ill habit 
of body, which, after a tedious sickness, carried him 
off in the fortieth year of his age; and the whole 
history we have of his life till that time is but one 
continued account of the behavior of a noble soul 
struggling under innumerable pains and distempers. 

For my own part I intend to hunt twice a week 
during my stay with Sir Roger; and shall prescribe 
the moderate use of this exercise to all my country 
friends, as the best kind of physic for mending a bad 
constitution, and preserving a good one.^ 

1. It is not Impossible that as Addison appears to have had a 
genuine aversion to field sports, this subject was turned over to 
a writer who was familiar with hunting, since the portrait of a 
country gentleman like Sir Roger would be imperfect without 
this feature. Budgell has preserved well the Spectator's char- 
acter. 



THE COVERLEY WITCH. 93 

I cannot do this better, than in the following lines 
out of Mr. Dryden : — 

The first physicians by debauch were made< 

Excess began, and sloth sustains the trade. 

By chase our long-lived fathers earned their food ; 

Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood ; 

But we their sons, a pamper'd race of men, 

Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. 

Better to hunt in fields for health unbought 

Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. 

The wise for cure on exercise depend : 

God never made His work for man to luend.^ 



XVI. THE COVERLEY WITCH. 

Ipsi sibi somnia JinguntP- 

Virgil, Eclogues, viii. 108. 

There are some opinions in which a man should 
stand neuter, without engaging his assent to one side 
or the other. Such a hovering faith as this, which 
refuses to settle upon any determination, is absolutely 
necessary to a mind that is careful to avoid errors 
and prepossessions. When the arguments press 
equally on both sides in matters that are indifferent 
to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to 
neither. 

It is with this temper of mind that I consider the 
subject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations 
that are made from all parts of the world, not only 
from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West 
Indies, but from every particular nation in Europe, 
I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an inter- 
course and commerce with evil spirits as that which 
we express by the name of witchcraft. But when I 

1, An Epistle to his kinsman, J. Dryden, Esq., of Chesterton. 

2. They feign their own dreams. 



94 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

consider tliat the ignorant and credulous parts of the 
world abound most in these relations, and that the 
persons amojig us who are supposed to engage in 
such an infernal commerce are people of a weak 
understanding and a crazed imagination, and at the 
same time reflect upon the many impostures and 
delusions of this nature that have been detected in 
all ages, I endeavor to suspend my belief till I hear 
more certain accounts than any which have yet come 
to my knowledge. In short, when I consider the 
question, whether there are such persons in the world 
as those we call witches, my mind is divided between 
the two opposite opinions: or rather (to speak my 
thoughts freely) I believe in general that there is, 
and has been, such a thing as witchcraft ; but at the 
same time can give no credit to any particular in- 
stance of it. 

I am engaged in this speculation by some occur- 
rences that I met with yesterday, which I shall give 
my reader an account of at large. As I was walking 
with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his 
woods, an old woman applied herself to me for my 
charity. Her dress and figure put me in mind of the 
following description in Otway : — 

In a close lane as I pursued my journey, 
I spied a wrinkled liag', with ag-e grown double, 
Picking- dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. 
Her eyes with scalding- rheum were gall'd and red ; 
Cold palsy shook her head ; her hands seem'd wither'd ; \ 
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd 
The tatter' d remnants of an old striped hang'ing', 
Which served to keep her carcase from the cold : 
So there was nothing- of a piece about her. 
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd 
With diff'rent color'd rag's, black, red, white, yellow, 
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.^ 

1. The Orphan, act ii. 



THE COVERLEY WITCH. 95 

As I was musing on this description, and compar- 
ing it with the object before me, the Knight told me 
that this very old woman had the reputation of a 
witch all over the country, that her lips were ob- 
served to be always in motion, and that there was not 
a switch about her house which her neighbors did not 
believe had carried her several hundreds of miles. 
If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks 
or straws that lay in the figure of a cross before her. 
If she made any mistake at church, and cried Amen 
in a wrong place, they never failed to conclude that 
she was saying her prayers backwards. There was 
not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of 
her, though she would offer a bag of money with it. 
She goes by the name of Moll White, and has made 
the country ring with several imaginary exploits 
which are palmed upon her. If the dairy maid does 
not make her butter come so soon as she should have 
it, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a 
horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon 
his back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape 
from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. 
"Nay," says Sir Roger, "I have known the master 
of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his 
servants to see if Moll White had been out that 
morning." 

This account raised my curiosity so far, that I 
begged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her 
hovel, which stood in a solitary corner under the side 
of the wood. Upon our first entering Sir Roger 
winked to me, and pointed at something that stood 
behind the door, which, upon looking that way, I 
found to be an old broomstaff. At the same time he 
whispered me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat 



96 sin ROGER DE COVERLET, 

that sat in the chimney corner, which, as the old 
Knight tokl me, lay nnder as bad a report as Moll 
White herself; for besides that Moll is said often to 
accompany her in the same shape, the cat is reported 
to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and to have 
played several pranks above the capacity of an ordi- 
nary cat. 

f I was secretly concerned to see human nature in 
so much wretchedness and disgrace, but at the same 
time could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, 
who is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising 
her as a justice of peace to avoid all communication 
with the devil, and never to hurt any of her neigh- 
bors' cattle.. ^ AVe concluded our visit with a bounty, 
which was very acceptable. 

In our return home. Sir Roger told me that old 
Moll had been often brought before him for making- 
children spit pins, and giving maids the night-mare ; 
and that the country people would be tossing her into 
a pond ^ and trying experiments with her every da}-, 
if it was not for him and his chaplain. 

I have since found uj)on inquir}' that Sir Roger 
was several times staggered with the reports that had 
been brought him concerning this old woman, and 
would frequently have bound her over to the county 
sessions had not his chaplain with much ado per- 
suaded him to the contrary. 

I have been the more particular in this account, 
because I hear there is scarce a villaije in Enoland 
that has not a Moll White in it. When an old 
woman begins to dote, and grow chargeable to a par- 

1. To see if she woiikl float or sink. If she floated she was a 
witch, so that it was small comfort to the unfortunate person to 
save herself from drowninsf. 



SIR ROGER AND LOVE-MAKING. 97 

isli, she is generally turned into a witch, and fills the 
whole country with extravagant fancies, imaginary 
distempers and terrifying dreams. In the mean 
time, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion 
of so many evils begins to be frighted at herself, and 
sometimes confesses secret commerce and familiari- 
ties that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. 
This frequently cuts off charity from the greatest 
objects of compassion, and inspires people with a 
malevolence towards those poor decrepit parts of our 
species, in whom human nature is defaced by infirm- 
ity and dotage.^ 



XVII. SIR ROGER AND LOVE-MAKING. 

Hceret later i lethalis arwidor 

Virgil, ^neid, iv. 73. 

This agreeable seat is surrounded with so many 
pleasing walks which are struck out of a wood in the 
midst of which the house stands, that one can hardly 
ever be weary of rambling from one labyrinth of 
delight to another. To one used to live in a city the 
charms of the country are so exquisite that the mind 
is lost in a certain transport which raises us above 
ordinary life, and is yet not strong enough to be 
inconsistent with tranquillity. This state of mind 
was I in, ravished with the murmur of waters, the 
whisper of breezes, the singing of birds ; and whether 
I looked up to the heavens, down on the earth, or 
turned to the prospects around me, still struck with 

1. The witchcraft delusion in Salem Village, Massachusetts, 
raged through the spring and summer of 1692. In England, 
the last condemnation to death for witchcraft was in 1712. 

2. The fatal arrow rankles in his side. 



98 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

new sense of pleasure ; when I found by the voice of 
my friend, who walked by me, that we had insensibly 
strolled into the grove sacred to the Widow. "This 
woman," says he, "is of all others the most. unintelli- 
gible ; she either designs to marry, or she does not. 
What is the most perplexing of all is, that she doth 
not either say to her lovers she has any resolution 
against that condition of life in general, or that she 
banishes them; but conscious of her own merit, she 
permits their addresses without fear of any ill conse- 
quence, or want of respect, from their rage or de- 
spair. She has that in her aspect against which it 
is impossible to offend. A man whose thoughts are 
constantly bent upon so agreeable an object must be 
excused if the ordinary occurrences in conversation 
are below his attention. I call her indeed perverse, 
but, alas ! why do I call her so ? Because her supe- 
rior merit is such, that I cannot approach her with- 
out awe, that my heart is checked by too much 
esteem: I am angry that her charms are not more 
accessible, that I am more inclined to worship than 
salute her: how often have I wished her unhappy 
that I might have an opportunity of serving her? 
and how often troubled in that very imagination, at 
giving her the pain of being obliged? Well, I have 
led a miserable life in secret upon her account ; but 
fancy she would have condescended to have some 
regard for me, if it had not been for that watchful 
animal her confidante. 

"Of all persons under the sun," continued he, 
calling me by my name, "be sure to set a mark 
upon confidantes; they are of all people the most 
impertinent. What is most pleasant to observe in 
them is that they assume to themselves the merit of 



SIR ROGER AND LOVE-MAKING. 99 

the persons whom they have in their custody. Ores- 
tilla is a great fortune,^ and in wonderful danger of 
surprises, therefore full of suspicions of the least 
indifferent thing, particularly careful of new ac- 
quaintance, and of growing too familiar with the old. 
Themista, her favorite woman, is every whit as care- 
ful of whom she speaks to, and what she says. Let 
the ward be a beauty, her confidante shall treat you 
with an air of distance ; let her be a fortune, and she 
assumes the suspicious behavior of her friend and 
patroness. Thus it is that very many of our unmar- 
ried women of distinction are to all intents and pur- 
poses married, except the consideration of different 
sexes. They are directly under the conduct of their 
whisperer; and think they are in a state of freedom, 
while they can prate with one of these attendants of 
all men in general and still avoid the man they most 
like. You do not see one heiress in an hundred whose 
fate does not turn upon this circumstance of choosing 
a confidante. Thus it is that the lady is addressed 
to, presented and flattered, only by proxy, in her 
woman. In my case, how is it possible that — " 

Sir Koger was proceeding in his harangue, when 
we heard the voice of one speaking very importu- 
nately, and repeating these words, "What, not one 
smile?" We followed the sound till we came to a 
close thicket, on the other side of which we saw a 
young woman sitting as it were in a personated ^ sul- 
lenness just over a transparent fountain. Opposite 
to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger's master of the 
game. The Knight whispered me, "Hist, these are 
lovers." The huntsman looking earnestly at the 

1. Note below, " be a beauty," " be a fortune." 

2. See a similar use of this word (p. 79, 1. 3). 



100 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

shadow of the young maiden in the stream, "O thou 
dear picture, if thou could st remain there in the 
absence of that fair creature, whom you represent in 
the water, how willingly could I stand here satisfied 
forever, without troubling my dear Betty herself 
with any mention of her unfortunate William, whom 
she is angry with : but alas ! when she pleases to be 
gone, thou wilt also vanish — yet let me talk to thee 
while thou dost stay. Tell my dearest Betty thou 
dost not more dejoend upon her than does her Wil- 
liam : her absence will make away with me as well as 
thee. If she offers to remove thee, I '11 jump into 
these waves to lay hold on thee ; herself, her own 
dear person, I must never embrace again. — Still do 
you hear me without one smile — it is too much to 
bear." He had no sooner spoke these words but 
he made an offer of throwing himself into the water; 
at which his mistress started up, and at the next in- 
stant he jumped across the foimtain and met her in 
an embrace. She, half recovering from her fright, 
said in the most charming voice imaginable, and 
with a tone of complaint, "I thought how well you 
would drown yourself. No, no, you won't drown 
yourself till you have taken your leave of Susan 
Holiday." The huntsman, with a tenderness that 
spoke the most passionate love, and with his cheek 
close to hers, whispered the softest vows of fidelity 
in her ear, and cried, "Don't, my dear, believe a 
word Kate Willow says; she is spiteful and makes 
stories, because she loves to hear me talk to herself 
for your sake." 

"Look you there," quoth Sir Roger, "do you see 
there, all mischief comes from confidantes ! But let 
us not interrupt them; the maid is honest, and the 



SIR ROGER AND LOVE-MAKING. 101 

man dares not be otherwise, for he knows I loved her 
father; I will interpose in this matter, and hasten 
the wedding. Kate Willow is a witty mischievous 
wench in the neighborhood, who was a beauty; and 
makes me hope I shall see the perverse Widow in her 
condition. She was so flippant with her answers to 
all the honest fellows that came near her, and so very 
vain of her beauty, that she has valued herself upon 
her charms till they are ceased. She therefore now 
makes it her business to prevent other young women 
from being more discreet than she was herself; how- 
ever, the saucy thing said the other day well enough, 
'Sir Roger and I must make a match, for we are 
both despised by those we loved. ' The hussy has a 
great deal of power wherever she comes, and has her 
share of cunning. 

"However, when I reflect upon this woman, I do 
not know whether in the main I am the worse for 
having loved her; whenever she is recalled to my 
imagination my youth returns and I feel a forgotten 
warmth in my veins. This affliction in my life has 
streaked all my conduct with a softness of which I 
should otherwise have been incapable. It is, per- 
haps, to this dear image in my heart owing, that I 
am apt to relent, that I easily forgive, and that many 
desirable things are grown into my temper, which I 
should not have arrived at by better motives than* the 
thought of being one day hers. I am pretty well sat- 
isfied such a passion as I have had is never well 
cured; and between you and me, I am often apt to 
imagine it has had some whimsical effect upon my 
brain. For I frequently find, that in my most seri- 
ous discourse I let fall some comical familiarity of 
speech or odd phrase that makes the company laugh; 



102 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

however, I cannot but allow she is a most excellent 
woman. When she is in the country, I warrant she 
does not run into dairies, but reads upon the nature 
of plants; but has a glass hive, and comes into the 
garden out of books to see them work, and observe 
the policies of their commonwealth. She under- 
stands everything. I 'd give ten pounds to hear her 
argue with my friend Sir Andrew Freeport about 
trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as it 
were, take my word for it she is no fool." 



SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 



XVIII. POLITE AND RUSTIC I^iANNERS. 

Urbem quam dicunt Bomam, Melibcee, putavi 
Stultus ego huic nostrce similem}- 

ViRGii., Eclogues, i. 20, 21. 

The first and most obvious reflections which arise 
in a man who changes the city for the country ^ are 
upon the different manners of the people whom he 
meets with in those two different scenes of life. By 
manners I do not mean morals, but behavior and 
good -breeding as they show themselves in the town 
and in the country. 

And here, in the first place, I must observe a very 

1. The city, Meliboeus, that men call Rome, 
I, silly, thought like my small town. 

2. It must be remembered that when Addison wrote, tlie 
infrequent intercourse between city and country left every petty 
neighborhood to form its own manners and dress, almost its own 
language. " A journey any little distance from home was a 
serious undertaking, so serious, indeed, that it often meant the 
inditing of a last will and testament before it was undertaken. 
Bad as the roads were in the summer-time when clouds of dust 
blinded the traveller in every direction, infinitely worse were 
they at such times as the waters were out or after a heavy fall 
of rain, when the chances were that wayfarers, after crawling 
along at a pace of two or three miles an hour in constant fear of 
sticking fast in a quagmire, had to brave the impetuous force of 
the current of some river that had overflowed its banks, the 
strong barely escaping with their lives, the weak often perishing 
in the stream." — Sydney, England and the English in the Eigh- 
teenth Century, ii. o. 



104 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

great revolution that has happened in this article of 
good-breeding. Several obliging deferences, conde- 
scensions, and submissions, with many outward forms 
and ceremonies that accompany them, were first of 
all brought up among the politer part of mankind, 
who lived in courts and cities, and distinguished 
themselves from the rustic part of the species (who 
on all occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such 
a mutual comjDlaisance and intercourse of civilities. 
These forms of conversation by degrees multiplied 
and grew troublesome; the modish world found too 
great a constraint in them, and have therefore thrown 
most of them aside. Conversation, like the Romish 
religion, was so encumbered with show and ceremony, 
that it stood in need of a reformation to retrench its 
superfluities, and restore it to its natural good sense 
and beauty. At present therefore an unconstrained 
carriage, and a certain oj^enness of behavior, are the 
height of good -breeding. The fashionable world is 
grown free and easy ; our manners sit more loose upon 
us. Nothino' is so modish as an asrreeable neolio;ence. 
In a word, good-breeding shows itself most, where to 
an ordinary eye it appears the least. 

If after this we look on the jDeople of mode in the 
country v/e find in them the manners of the last age. 
They have no sooner fetched themselves up to the 
fashion of the polite world, but the town has dropped 
them, and are nearer to the first state of nature 
than to those refinements which formerly reigned in 
the court, and still prevail in the country. One ma}^ 
now know a man that never conversed in the world 
by his excess of good-breeding. A polite country 
squire shall make you as many bows in half an hour 
as would serve a courtier for a week. There is infi- 



POLITE AND RUSTIC MANNERS. 105 

nitely more to do about place and precedency in a 
meeting of justices' wives than in an assembly of 
duchesses. 

This rural politeness is very troublesome to a man 
of my temper, who generally take the chair that is 
next me, and walk first or last, in the front or in the 
rear, as chance directs. I have known my friend Sir 
Eoger's dinner almost cold before the company could 
adjust the ceremonial, and be prevailed upon to sit 
down; and have heartily pitied ni}^ old friend, when 
I have seen him forced to pick and cull his guests, as 
they sat at the several parts of his table, that he 
might drink their healths according to their respec- 
tive ranks and qualities. Honest Will Wimble, 
who I should have thought had been altogether unin- 
fected with ceremony, gives me abundance of trouble 
in this particular. Though he has been fishing all 
the morning, he will not help himself at dinner till I 
am served. When we are going out of the hall, he 
runs behind me; and last night, as we were walking 
in the fields, stopped short at a stile till I came up to 
it, and upon my making signs to him to get over, 
told me, with a serious smile, that sure I believed 
they had no manners in the country. 

There has happened another revolution in the 
point of good-breeding, which relates to the conver- 
sation among men of mode, and which I cannot but 
look upon as very extraordinary. It was certainly 
one of the first distinctions of a well-bred man, to 
express everything that had the most remote appear- 
ance of being obscene in modest terms and distant 
phrases ; whilst the clown, who had no such delicacy 
of conception and expression, clothed his ideas in 
those plain, homely terms that are the most obvious 



106 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

and natural. This kind of good manners was per- 
haps carried to an excess, so as to make conversation 
too stiff, formal, and precise: for which reason (as 
hypocrisy in one age is generally succeeded by athe- 
ism in another) conversation is in a great measure 
relapsed into the first extreme; so that at present 
several of our men of the town, and particularly 
those who have been polished in France, make use 
of the most coarse uncivilized words in our language, 
and utter themselves often in such a manner as a 
clown would blush to hear. 

This infamous piece of good-breeding, which reigns 
among the coxcombs of the town, has not yet made 
its way into the country; and as it is impossible for 
such an irrational way of conversation to last long 
among a people that make any profession of religion, 
or show of modesty, if the country gentlemen get 
into it they will certainly be left in the lurch. Their 
good-breeding will come too late to them, and they 
will be thought a parcel of lewd clowns, while they 
fancy themselves talking together like men of wit 
and pleasure. 

As the two points of good-breeding which I have 
hitherto insisted upon regard behavior and conver- 
sation, there is a third, which turns upon dress. In 
this, too, the country are very much behind-hand. 
The rural beaus are not yet got out of the fashion 
that took place at the time of the Revolution, but 
ride about the country in red coats and laced ^ hats, 
while the women in many parts are still trying to 
outvie one another in the height of their head- 
dresses. ^ 

1. That is, edged with gold lace. 

2. About a month before Addison had written in The Specta- 



THE COVERLEY POULTRY. 107 

But a friend of mine, who is now upon the western 
circuit, having promised to give me an account of the 
several modes and fashions that prevail in the differ- 
ent parts of the nation through which he passes, I 
shall defer the enlarging upon this last topic till I 
have received a letter from him, which I expect 
every post. 

XIX. THE COVERLEY POULTRY. 

Equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis 
Ingenium.^ 

Virgil, Georgics, i. 451. 

My friend Sir Roger is very often merry with me 
upon my passing so much of my time among his 
poultry. He has caught me twice or thrice looking 

tor. No. 98 : " There is not so variable a thing in nature as a 
lady's head-dress. Within my own memory I have known it 
rise and fall above thirty degrees. About thirty years ago it 
shot up to a very great height, insomuch that the female part of 
our species were much taller than the men. The women were 
of such an enormous stature that we appeared as grasshoppers 
before them. At present the whole sex is in a manner dwarfed 
and shrunk into a race of beauties that seems almost another 
species. I remember several ladies who were once very near 
seven foot high, that at present want some inches of five. . . . 
One may observe that women in all ages have taken more pains 
than men to adorn the outside of their heads ; and, indeed, I 
very much admire that those female architects who raise such 
wonderful structures out of ribbands, lace, and wire, have not been 
recorded for their respective inventions. It is certain there has 
been as many orders in these kinds of building as in those 
which have been made of marble ; sometimes they rise in the 
shape of a pyramid, sometimes like a tower, and sometimes like 
a steeple." 

1. I verily believe that their intelligence has something divine 
about it. 



108 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

after a bird's nest, and several times sitting an hour 
or two together near an hen and chickens. He tells 
me he believes I am personally acquainted with every 
fowl about his house ; calls such a jiarticular cock my 
favorite, and frequently complains that his ducks and 
geese have more of my company than himself. 

I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those 
speculations of nature which are to be made in a 
country life ; and as my reading has very much lain 
among books of natural history, I cannot forbear 
recollecting upon this occasion the several remarks 
which I have met with in authors, and comparing 
them with what falls under my own observation : the 
arguments for Providence drawn from the natural 
history of animals being in my opinion demonstra- 
tive. 

The make of every kind of animal is different from 
that of every other kind; and yet there is not the 
least turn in the muscles or twist in the fibres of any 
one, which does not render them more proper for 
that particular animal's way of life than any other 
cast or texture of them would have been. 

The most violent appetites in all creatures are lust 
and hunger. The first is a perpetual call upon them 
to propagate their kind ; the latter to preserve them- 
selves. 

It is ,| astonishing to consider the different degrees 
of care that descend from the parent to the young, 
so far as is absolutely necessary for the leaving a pos- 
terity. Some creatures cast their eggs as chance 
directs them, and think of them no farther, as in- 
sects and several kinds of fish; others, of a nicer 
frame, find out proper beds to deposit them in, !and 
there leave them, as the serpent, the crocodile, and 



THE COVERLEY POULTRY. 109 

ostrich ; others hatch their eggs and tend the birth, 
till it is able to shift for itself. 

What can we call the principle which directs every 
different kind of bird to observe a particular plan in 
the structure of its nest, and directs all of the same 
species to work after the same model? It cannot be 
imitation ; for though you hatch a crow under a hen, 
and never let it see any of the works of its own kind, 
the nest it makes shall be the same, to the laying of 
a stick, with all the other nests of the same species. 
It cannot be reason; for were animals indued with 
it to as great a' degree as man, their buildings would 
be as different as ours, according to the different 
conveniences that they would propose to themselves. 

Is it not remarkable, that the same temper of 
weather, which raises this genial warmth in animals, 
should cover the trees with leaves, and the fields with 
grass, for their security and concealment, and pro- 
duce such infinite swarms of insects for the support 
and sustenance of their respective broods? 

Is it not wonderful that the love of the parent 
should be so violent while it lasts, and that it should 
last no longer than is necessary for the preservation 
of the young? 

But notwithstanding this natural love in brutes is 
much more violent and intense than in rational crea- 
tures. Providence has taken care that it should be no 
longer troublesome to the parent than it is useful to 
the young ; for so soon as the wants of the latter 
cease, the mother withdraws her fondness, and leaves 
them to provide for themselves; and what is a very 
remarkable circumstance in this part of instinct, we 
find that the love of the parent may be lengthened 
out beyond its usual time, if the preservation of the 



110 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

species requires it : as we may see in birds that drive 
away their young as soon as they are able to get their 
livelihood, but continue to feed them if they are tied 
to the nest, or confined within a cage, or by any 
other means appear to be out of a condition of sup- 
plying their own necessities. 

This natural love is not observed in animals to 
ascend from the j^oung to the parent, which is not at 
all necessary for the continuance of the species : nor 
indeed in reasonable creatures does it rise in any 
proportion, as it spreads itself downwards ; for in all 
family affection, we find protection granted and fa- 
vors bestowed are greater motives to love and tender- 
ness than safety, benefits, or life received. 

One would wonder to hear skeptical men disputing 
for the reason of animals, and telling us it is only 
our pride and prejudices that will not allow them the 
use of that faculty. 

Reason shows itself in all occurrences of life; 
whereas the brute makes no discovery of such a tal- 
ent, but in what immediately regards his own pres- 
ervation or the continuance of his species. Animals 
in their generation are wiser than the sons of men; 
but their wisdom is confined to a few particulars, 
and lies in a very narrow compass. Take a brute 
out of his instinct, and you find him wholly deprived 
of understanding. To use an instance that comes 
often under observation. 

With what caution does the hen provide herself a 
nest in places unfrequented, and free from noise and 
disturbance ! When she has laid her eggs in such a 
manner that she can cover them, what care does she 
take in turning them frequently, that all parts may 
partake of the vital warmth! When she leaves 



THE COVERLEY POULTRY. Ill 

them, to provide for her necessary sustenance, how 
punctually does she return before they have time to 
cool, and become incapable of producing an animal! 
In the summer you see her giving herself greater 
freedoms, and quitting her care for above two hours 
together ; but in winter, when the rigor of the season 
would chill the principles of life, and destroy the 
young one, she grows more assiduous in her attend- 
ance, and stays away but half the time. When the 
birth approaches, with how much nicety and atten- 
tion does she help the chick to break its prison I not 
to take notice of her covering it from the injuries of 
the weather, providing it proper nourishment, and 
teaching it to help itself ; nor to mention her forsak- 
ing the nest, if after the usual time of reckoning the 
young one does not make its appearance. A chemi- 
cal operation could not be followed with greater art 
or diligence than is seen in the hatching of a chick; 
though there are many other birds that show an infi- 
nitely greater sagacity in all the fore -mentioned par- 
ticulars. 

But at the same time the hen, that has all this 
seeming ingenuity (which is indeed absolutely neces- 
sary for the proj)agation of the species), considered in 
other respects, is without the least glimmerings of 
thought or common sense. She mistakes a piece of 
chalk for an Qgg^ and sits upon it in the same man- 
ner; she is insensible of any increase or diminution 
in the number of those she lays ; she does not distin- 
guish between her own and those of another species ; 
and when the birth appears of never so different a 
bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these cir- 
cumstances which do not carry an immediate regard 
to the subsistence of herself or her species, she is a 
'ery idiot. 



112 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

There is not, in my opinion, anything more mys- 
terious in nature than this instinct in animals, whi^h 
thus rises above reason, and falls infinitely short of 
it. It cannot be accounted for by any properties in 
matter, and at the same time works after so odd a 
manner, that one cannot think it the faculty of an 
intellectual 'being. For my own part, I look upon 
it as upon the principle of gravitation in bodies, 
which is not to be explained by any known qualities 
inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from any laws 
of mechanism, but according to the best notions of 
the greatest philosophers is an immediate impression 
from the first Mover, and the Divine energy acting 
in the creatures. 



XX. SIR ROGER IN THE COUNTRY. 

Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est.^ 

Publics Syrus, Fragments. 

A man's first care should be to avoid the re- 
proaches of his own heart; his next to escape the 
censures of the world. If the last interferes with 
the former, it ought to be entirely neglected; but 
otherwise there cannot be a greater satisfaction to an 
honest mind than to see those approbations which it 
gives itself seconded by the applauses of the public. 
A man is more sure of his conduct when the verdict 
which he passes upon his own behavior is thus war- 
ranted and confirmed by the opinion of all that know 
him. 

My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is 
not only at peace within himself, but beloved and 
esteemed by all about him. He receives a suitable 

1. A cheerful companion on the road is as good as a coach. 



SIR ROGER IN THE COUNTRY. 113 

tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind in 
the returns of affection and good-will which are paid 
him by every one that lives within his neighborhood. 
I lately met with two or three odd instances of that 
general respect which is shown to tl|B good old 
Knight. He would needs carry Will Wimble and 
myself with him to the county assizes. As we were 
upon the road, Will Wimble joined a couple of plain 
men who rid before us, and conversed with them for 
some time; during which my friend Sir Roger ac- 
quainted me with their characters. 

"The first of them," says he, "that has a spaniel 
by his side, is a yeoman of about an hundred pounds 
a year, an honest man. He is just within the Game 
Act, and qualified to kill an hare or a pheasant. He 
knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a 
week; and by that means lives much cheaper than 
those who have not so good an estate as himself. He 
would be a good neighbor if he did not destroy so 
many partridges ; in short, he is a very sensible man, 
shoots flying, and has been several times foreman of 
the petty jury. 

"The other that rides along with him is Tom 
Touchy, a fellow famous for taking the law of every- 
body. There is not one in the town where he lives 
that he has not sued at a quarter sessions. The 
rogue had once the impudence to go to law with the 
Widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and 
ejectments; he plagued a couple of honest gentlemen 
so long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, 
till he was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to 
defray the charges of the prosecution. His father 
left him four-score pounds a year, but he has cast,^ 
1. Condemned in a lawsuit. 



114 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

and been cast so often, that he is not now worth 
thirty. I suppose he is going upon the old business 
of the willow tree." 

As Sir Koger was giving me this account of Tom 
Touchy, Will Wimble and his two companions 
stopped short till we came up to them. After hav- 
ing paid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him 
that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to him upon a 
dispute that arose between them. Will, it seems, 
had been giving his fellow traveller an account of his 
angling one day in such a hole ; when Tom Touchy, 
instead of hearing out his story, told him that Mr. 
Such-an-one, if he pleased, might take the law of him 
for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir 
Roger heard them both, upon a round trot; and, 
after havmg paused some time, told them, with the 
air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, 
that much might be said on both sides. They were 
neither of them dissatisfied with the Knight's deter- 
mination, because neither of them found himself in 
the wrong by it. Upon which we made the best of 
our way to the assizes. 

The court was sat before Sir Roger came; but 
notwithstanding all the justices had taken their 
places upon the bench, they made room for the old 
Knight at the head of them ; who, for his reputation 
in the country, took occasion to whisper in the 
judge's ear, that he was glad his lordship had met 
with so much good weather in his circuit. I was 
listening to the proceeding of the court with much 
attention, and infinitely pleased with that great 
appearance and solemnity which so properly accom- 
panies such a public administration of our laws; 
when, after about an hour's sitting, I observed, to 



SIR ROGER IN THE COUNTRY. 115 

my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that my 
friend Sir Koger was getting up to speak. I was in 
some pain for him, till I found he had acquitted him- 
self of two or three sentences, with a look of much 
business and great intrepidity. 

Upon his first rising the court was hushed, and a 
general whisper ran among the country j)eople that 
Sir Roger was up. The speech he made was so little 
to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my readers 
with an account of it; and I believe was not so much 
designed by the Knight himself to inform the court, 
as to give him a figure in my eye, and keep up his 
credit in the country. 

I was highly delighted, when the court rose, to see 
the gentlemen of the country gathering about my old 
friend, and striving who should compliment him 
most; at the same time that the ordinary people 
gazed upon him at a distance, not a little admiring 
his courage, that was not afraid to speak to the 
judge. 

In our return home we met with a very odd acci- 
dent, which I cannot forbear relating, because it 
shows how desirous all who know Sir Roger are of 
giving him marks of their esteem. When we were 
arrived upon the verge of his estate, we stopped at a 
little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The man 
of the house had, it seems, been formerly a servant 
in the Knight's family; and, to do honor to his old 
master, had some time since, unknown to Sir Roger, 
put him up in a sign-post before the door; so that 
the Knight's Head had hung out upon the road about 
a week before he himself knew anything of the mat- 
ter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, 
finding that his servant's indiscretion proceeded 



116 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

wholly from affection and good-will, he only told him 
that he had made him too high a compliment; and 
when the fellow seemed to think that could hardly 
be, added, with a more decisive look, that it was too 
great an honor for any man under a duke ; but told 
him at the same time that it might be altered with 
a very few touches, and that he himself would be at 
the charge of it. Accordingly they got a painter, by 
the Knight's directions, to add a pair of whiskers to 
the face, and by a little aggravation of the features 
to change it into the Saracen's Head.^ I should not 
have known this story had not the inn-keeper, upon 
Sir Koger's alighting, told him in my hearing, that 
his honor's head was brought back last night with 
the alterations that he had ordered to be made in it. 
Upon this, my friend, with his usual cheerfulness, 
related the particulars above mentioned, and ordered 
the head to be brought into the room. I could not 
forbear discovering greater expressions of mirth than 
ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous face, 
under which, notwithstanding it was made to frown 
and stare in a most extraordinary manner, I coidd 
still discover a distant resemblance of my old friend. 
Sir Roger, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell 
him truly if I thought it possible for people to know* 
him in that disguise. I at first kept my usual si- 
lence; but upon the Knight's conjuring me to tell 
him whether it was not still more like himself than a 
Saracen, I composed my countenance in the best 

1. "When our countrymen came home from fighting- with the 
Saracens, and were beaten by them, they pictured them with 
huge, big, terrible faces (as you still see the sign of the Sara- 
cen's Head is), when, in truth, they were like other men. But 
this they did to save their own credit." — Selden's Table Talk, 



FLORIO AND LEONILLA. 117 

manner I could, and replied that much might be said 
on both sides. 

These several adventures, with the Knight's beha- 
vior in them, gave me as pleasant a day as ever I 
met with in any of my travels. 



XXI. FLORIO AND LEONILLA. 

Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam 
Hectique cultus pectora roborant ; 

Utcunque defecere mores, 

Dedecorant bene nata culpce.^ 

Horace, Ode iv. 4, 33. 

As I was yesterday taking the air with my friend 
Sir Roger, we were met by a fresh-colored ruddy 
young man, who rid by us full speed, with a couple 
of servants behind him. Upon my inquiry who he 
was. Sir Roger told me that he was a young gentle- 
man of a considerable estate, who had been educated 
by a tender mother, that lives not many miles from 
the place where we were. She is a very good lady, 
says m}^ friend, but took so much care of her son's 
health, that she has made him good for nothing. 
She quickly found that reading was bad for his eyes, 
and that writing made his head ache. He was let 
loose among the woods as soon as he was able to ride 
on horseback, or to carry a gun upon his shoulder. 
To be brief, I found by my friend's account of him, 

1. Instruction a new force imparts 
To faculties inherited, 
And, well directed, strengthens hearts 

In virtue's ways and valor's bred ; 
But when bad morals bring bad fame, 
Good biTth but aggravates the shame. 

John O. Sargent's translation. 



118 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

that lie had got a great stock of health, but nothing 
else; and that if it were a man's business only to 
live, there would not be a more accomplished young 
fellow in the whole country. 

The truth of it is, since my residing in these parts 
I have seen and heard innumerable instances of 
young heirs and elder brothers who either from their 
own reflecting upon the estates they are born to, and 
therefore thinking all other accomplishments unne- 
cessary, or from hearing these notions frequently in- 
culcated to them by the flattery of their servants and 
domestics, or from the same foolish thought prevail- 
ing in those who have the care of their education, are 
of no manner of use but to keep up their families, 
and transmit their lands and houses in a line to pos- 
terity. 

This makes me often think on a story I have heard 
of two friends, which I shall give my reader at large 
under feigned names. The moral of it may, I hope, 
be useful, though there are some circumstances which 
make it rather appear like a novel ^ than a true story. 

Eudoxus and Leontine began the world with small 
estates. They were both of them men of good sense 
and great virtue. They prosecuted their studies to- 
gether in their earlier years, and entered into such a 
friendship as lasted to the end of their lives. Eu- 
doxus, at his first setting out in the world, threw 
himself into a court, where by his natural endow- 
ments and his acquired abilities he made his way 
from one post to another, till at length he had raised 
a very considerable fortune. Leontine, on the con- 

1. The novel as understood by Addison was a short story with 
love for its motive. Novels of this character were often intro- 
duced into papers like The Spectator. 



FLORIO AND LEONILLA. 119 

trary, sought all opportunities of improving liis mind 
by study, conversation, and travel. He was not only 
acquainted with all the sciences, but with the most 
eminent professors of them throughout Europe. He 
knew perfectly well the interests of its princes, with 
the customs and fashions of their courts, and could 
scarce meet with the name of an extraordinary per- 
son in the Gazette whom he had not either talked to 
or seen. In short, he had so well mixed and digested 
•his knowledge of men and books, that he made one 
of the most accomplished persons of his age. Dur- 
ing the whole course of his studies and travels he 
kept up a punctual correspondence with Eudoxus, 
who often made himself acceptable to the principal 
men about court by the intelligence which he received 
from Leon tine. When they were both turned of 
forty (an age in which, according to IMr. Cowley,^ 
''there is no dallying with life") they determined, 
pursuant to the resolution they had taken in the be- 
ginning of their lives, to retire, and pass the remain- 
der of their days in the country. In order to this, 
they both of them married much about the same 
time. Leontine, with his own and his wife's for- 
tune, bought a farm of three hundred a year, which 
lay within the neighborhood of his friend Eudoxus, 
who had purchased an estate of as many thousands. 
They were both of them fathers about the same time, 
Eudoxus having a son born to him, and Leontine a 
daughter; but to the unspeakable grief of the latter, 
his young wife, in whom all his happiness was wrapt 
up, died in a few days after the birth of her daugh- 

1. From Cowley's Essay on the Danger of Procrastination, in 
which occurs the phrase, "There 's no fooling with life when it 
is once turned beyond forty." 



120 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

ter. His affliction would have been insupportable, 
had not he been comforted by the daily visits and 
conversations of his friend. As they were one day 
talking together with their usual intimacy, Leontine 
considering how incapable he was of giving his 
daughter a proper education in his own house, and 
Eudoxus reflecting on the ordinary behavior of a son 
who knows himself to be the heir of a great estate, 
they both agreed upon an exchange of children, 
namely, that the boy should be bred up with Leon- 
tine as his son, and that the girl should live with 
Eudoxus as his daughter, till they were each of them 
arrived at years of discretion. The wife of Eudoxus, 
knowing that her son could not be so advantageously 
brought up as under the care of Leontine, and con- 
sidering at the same time that he would be per23etu- 
ally under her own eye, was by degrees prevailed 
upon to fall in with the project. She therefore took 
Leonilla, for that was the name of the girl, and 
educated her as her own daughter. The two friends 
on each side had wrought themselves to such an habit- 
ual tenderness for the children who were under their 
direction, that each of them had the real passion of a 
father, where the title was but imaginary. Florio, 
the name of the young heir that lived with Leontine, 
though he had all the duty and affection imaginable 
for his supposed parent, was taught to rejoice at the 
sight of Eudoxus, who visited his friend very fre- 
quently, and was dictated by his natural affection, 
as well as by the rules of prudence, to make himself 
esteemed and beloved by Florio. The boy was now 
old enough to know his supposed father's circum- 
stances, and that thei;efore he was to make his way 
in the world by his own industry. This considera- 



FLORIO AND LEONILLA. 121 

tion grew stronger in him every day, and produced 
so good an effect that he applied himself with more 
than ordinary attention to the pursuit of everything 
which Leontine recommended to him. His natural 
abilities, which were very good, assisted by the 
directions of so excellent a counsellor, enabled him 
to make a quicker progress than ordinary through all 
the parts of his education. Before he was twenty 
years of age, having finished his studies and exercises 
with great applause, he was removed from the uni- 
versity to the inns of court, where there are very few 
that make themselves considerable proficients in the 
studies of the place who know they shall arrive at 
great estates without them. This was not Florio's 
case ; he found that three hundred a year was but a 
poor estate for Leontine and himself to live upon, so 
that he studied without intermission till he gained a 
very good insight into the constitution and laws of 
his country. 

I should have told my reader that whilst Florio 
lived at the house of his foster-father he was always 
an acceptable guest in the family of Eudoxus, where 
he became acquainted with Leonilla from her in- 
fancy. His acquaintance with her by degrees grew 
into love, which in a mind trained up in all the sen- 
timents of honor and virtue became a very uneasy 
passion. He despaired of gaining an heiress of so 
great a fortune, and would rather have died than 
attempted it by any indirect methods. Leonilla, 
who was a woman of the greatest beauty joined with 
the greatest modesty, entertained at the same time a 
secret passion for Florio, but conducted herself with 
so much prudence that she never gave him the least 
intimation of it. Florio was now engaged in all 



122 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

those arts and improvements that are proper to raise 
a man's private fortune, and give him a tigure in his 
country, but secretly tormented with that passion 
which burns with the greatest fury in a virtuous and 
noble heart, when he received a sudden summons 
from Leontine to repair to him into the country the 
next day. For it seems Eudoxus was so filled with 
the report of his son's reputation, that he could no 
longer withhold making himself known to him. The 
morning after his arrival at the house of his su23posed 
father, Leontine told him that Eudoxus had some- 
thing of great importance to communicate to him; 
upon which the good man embraced him and wept, 
riorio was no sooner arrived at the great house that 
stood in his neighborhood, but Eudoxus took him by 
the hand, after the first salutes were over, and con- 
ducted him into his closet. He there opened to him 
the whole secret of his parentage and education, con- 
cluding after this manner : " I have no other way left 
of acknowledging my gratitude to Leontine, than by 
marrying you to his daughter. He shall not lose the 
pleasure of being your father by the discovery I have 
made to you. Leonilla, too, shall be still my daugh- 
ter; her filial piety, though misplaced, has been so 
exemplary that it deserves the greatest reward I can 
confer upon it. You shall have the pleasure of see- 
ing a great estate fall to you, which you would have 
lost the relish of had you known j^ourself born to it. 
Continue only to deserve it in the same manner you 
did before you were j)ossessed of it. I have left your 
mother in the next room. Her heart j^earns towards 
you. She is making the same discoveries to Leonilla 
which I have made to yourself." Florio was so over- 
whelmed with this profusion of happiness, that he 



SIR ROGER AND PARTY SPIRIT. 123 

was not able to make a reply, but threw himself 
clown at his father's feet, and amidst a flood of tears 
kissed and embraced his knees, asking his blessing, 
and expressing in dumb show those sentiments of 
love, duty, and gratitude that were too big for utter- 
ance. To conclude, the happy pair were married, 
and half Eudoxus's estate settled upon them. Leon- 
tine and Eudoxus passed the remainder of their lives 
together; and received in the dutiful and affectionate 
behavior of Florio and Leonilla the just recompense, 
as well as the natural effects, of that care which they 
had bestowed upon them in their education. ^ 



XXII. SIR ROGER AND PARTY SPIRIT. 

Ne, pueri, ne tanta animis assuescite bella : 
Neu patrice validas in viscera vertite vires^^ 

Virgil, ^neid, vi. 832, 833. 

My worthy friend Sir Eoger, when we are talking 
of the malice of parties, very frequently tells us an 
accident that happened to him when he was a school- 
boy, which was at a time when the feuds ran high 
between the Roundheads and Cavaliers. This worthy 

1. Addison writing to Mr. Wortley (afterward Wortley Mon- 
tague) on the day when this number of The Spectator appeared, 
says : " Being very well pleased with this day's Spectator, I can- 
not forbear sending you one of them, and desiring your opinion 
of the story in it. When you have a son, I shall be glad to be 
his Leontine, as my circumstances will be like his. I have 
within this twelvemonth lost a place, of £2,000 per annum, an 
estate in the Indies of £14,000, and what is worse than all the 
rest, my mistress." Addison had been in vain suing for the 
hand of a "perverse widow," who had now finally rejected him. 

2. Children, become not wonted to so great a war. 
Nor turn your energies into rending your country. 



124 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

Knight, being then but a stripling, had occasion to 
inquire which was the way to St. Anne's Lane, upon 
which the person whom he spoke to, instead of an- 
swering his question, called him a young Popish cur, 
and asked him who had made Anne a saint! The 
boy, being in some confusion, inquired of the next he 
met, which was the way to Anne's Lane; but was 
called a prick-eared cur for his j)ains, and instead of 
being shown the way, was told that she had been a 
saint before he was born, and would be one after he 
was hanged. ''Upon this," says Sir Roger, "I did 
not think fit to repeat the former question, but going 
into every lane of the neighborhood, asked what they 
called the name of that lane." By which ingenious 
artifice he found out the place he inquired after, 
without giving offence to any party. Sir Roger gen- 
erally closes this narrative with reflections on the 
mischief that parties do in the country; how they 
spoil good neighborhood, and make^ honest gentle- 
men hate one another; besides that they manifestly 
tend to the prejudice of the land tax,i and the de- 
struction of the game. 

There cannot a greater judgment befall a country 
than such a dreadful spirit of division as rends a 
government into two distinct people, and makes them 
greater strangers and more averse to one another, 
than if they were actually two different nations. The 
effects of such a division are pernicious to the last 
degree, not only with regard to those advantages 
which they give the 'common enemy, but to those 
private evils which they produce in the heart of 
almost every particular person. This influence is 

1. For the origin of the land tax see Macaulay's History of 
England; chap. ii. 



SIR ROGER AND PARTY SPIRIT. 125 

V9ry fatal both to men's morals and their under- 
standings; it sinks the virtue of a nation, and not 
only so, but destroys even common sense. 

A furious party spirit, when it rages in its full 
violence, exerts itself in civil war and bloodshed; 
and when it is under its greatest restraints naturally 
breaks out in falsehood, detraction, calumny, and a 
partial administration of justice. In a word, it fills 
a nation with spleen and rancor, and extinguishes 
all the seeds of good-nature, compassion, and human- 
ity.i 

Plutarch says, very finely, "that a man should not 
allow himself to hate even his enemies, because," says 
he, "if you indulge this passion in some occasions, 
it will rise of itself in others; if you hate your ene- 
mies, you will contract such a vicious habit of mind, 
as by degrees w ill break out upon those who are 
your friends, or those who are indifferent to you." 
I might here observe how admirably this precept of 
morality (which derives the malignity of hatred from 
the passion itself, and not from its object) answers to 
that great rule which was dictated to the world about 
an hundred years before this philosopher wrote ; ^ but 
instead of that, I shall only take notice, with a real 
grief of heart, that the minds of many good men 

1. It is generally recognized that party spirit never raged in 
England |^s in the eighteenth century. The cause lies deep in 
history, but the spirit of partisanship was intensified as well as 
in a measure due to the seat of power which was not so much in 
organization as in persons and families. The old feudal condi- 
tions had given way ; the new conditions of administration by 
parliament had not yet become fixed ; meanwhile the feudal 
spirit remained, but found its exercise in politics and society, 
rather than in war. 

2. Luke vi. 27-32. 



126 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

among us appear soured with party-principles, and 
alienated from one another in such a manner, as 
seems to me altogether inconsistent with the dictates 
either of reason or religion. Zeal for a public cause 
is apt to breed passions in the hearts of virtuous 
persons, to which the regard of their own private 
interest would never have betrayed them. 

If this party spirit has so ill an effect on our mor- 
als, it has likewise a very great one upon our judg- 
ments. We often hear a poor insij^id paper or 
pamphlet cried up, and sometimes a noble piece 
depreciated, by those who are of a different principle 
from the author. One v/ho is actuated by this spirit 
is almost under an incapacity of discerning either 
real blemishes or beauties. A man of merit in a 
different principle is like an object seen in two dif- 
ferent mediums, that appears crooked or broken, 
however straight and entire it may be in itself. For 
this reason there is scarce a person of any figure in 
England who does not go by two contrary characters, 
as opposite to one another as light and darkness. 
Knowledge and learning suffer in a particular man- 
ner from this strange prejudice, which at present 
prevails amongst all ranks and degrees in the British 
nation. As men formerly became eminent in learned 
societies by their parts and acquisitions, they now 
distinguish themselves by the warmth and violence 
with which they espouse their respective parties. 
Books are valued upon the like considerations. An 
abusive, scurrilous style passes for satire, and a dull 
scheme of party notions is called fine writin-g. 

There is one piece of sophistry pra^ctised by both 
sides, and that is the taking any scandalous story, 
that has been ever whispered or invented of a private 



SIR ROGER AND PARTY SPIRIT. 127 

man, for a known undonbted truth, and raising suit- 
able speculations upon it. Calumnies that have been 
never proved, or have been often refuted, are the 
ordinary postulatums of these infamous scribblers, 
upon which they proceed as upon first principles 
granted by all men, though in their hearts they know 
they are false, or at best very doubtful. When they 
have laid these foundations of scurrility, it is no won- 
der that their superstructure is every way answerable 
to them. If this shameless practice of the present 
age endures much longer, praise and reproach will 
cease to be motives of action in good men. 

There are certain periods of time in all govern- 
ments when this inhuman spirit prevails. Italy was 
long torn in pieces by the Guelphs and Ghibellines, 
and Fran«e by those wdio were for and against the 
league : ^ but it is very unhappy for a man to be born 
in such a stormy and tempestuous season. It is the 
restless ambition of artful men that thus breaks a 
people into factions, and draws several well-meaning 
persons to their interest by a specious concern for 
their country. How many honest minds are filled 
with uncharitable and barbarous notions, out of their 
zeal for the public good? What cruelties and out- 
rages would they not commit against men of an ad- 
verse party, whom they would honor and esteem, if, 
instead of considering them as they are represented, 
they knew them as they are? Thus are persons of 
the greatest probity seduced into shameful errors 
and prejudices, and made bad men even by that 
noblest of principles, the love of their country. I 

1. The Catholic League, so called, headed by the Duke of 
Guise, whose purpose was to insure the succession of a Catholic 
to the crown after the death of Henri III. of France. 



128 SIR ROGER BE COVERLEY. 

cannot here forbear mentioning the famous Spanish 
proverb, "If there were neither fools nor knaves in 
the world, all people would be of one mind." 

For my own part I could heartily wish that all 
honest men would enter into an association, for the 
support of one another against the endeavors of those 
whom they ought to look upon as their common ene- 
mies, whatsoever side they may belong to. Were 
there such an honest body of neutral forces, we 
should never see the worst of men in great figures of 
life, because they are useful to a party; nor the best 
unregarded, because they are above practising those 
methods which would be grateful to their faction. 
We should then single every criminal out of the 
herd, and hunt him down, however formidable and 
overgrown he might appear; on the coirtrary, we 
should shelter distressed innocence, and defend vir- 
tue, however beset with contempt or ridicule, envy 
or defamation. In short, we should not any longer 
regard our fellow-subjects as Whigs or Tories, but 
should make the man of merit our friend, and the 
villain our enemy. 

XXIII. SIR ROGER AND POLITICS. 

Tros Rutulusvefuat, nullo discrimine habebo.^ 

Virgil, ^neid, x. 108. 

In my yesterday's paper I proposed that the hon- 
est men of all parties should enter into a kind of 
association for the defence of one another, and the 
confusion of their common enemies. As it is de- 
signed this neutral body should act with a regard to 
1. Be he Trojan or Rutulian, I '11 treat him all the same. 



SIR ROGER AND POLITICS. 129 

nothing but truth and equity, and divest themselves 
of the little heats and prepossessions that cleave to 
parties of all kinds, I have prepared for them the 
following form of an association, which may express 
their intentions in the most plain and simple manner. 

We^ ivhose names are hereunto subscribed.^ do sol- 
emnly declare., that fve do in our consciences believe 
two and two make four ; and that we shall adjudge 
any man whatsoever to be our enemy who endeavors 
to jyersuade us to the contrary. We are likewise 
ready to maintain., with the hazard of all that is near 
and dear to us., that six is less than seven in all times 
and all places ; and that ten will not be more three 
years hence than it is at present. We do also firmly 
declare., that it is our resolution as long as lue live to 
call blach black., and white white. And we shall 
upon all occasions oppose such persons that upon any 
day of the year shcdl call black white., or white black., 
with the ittmost peril of our lives and fortunes. 

Were there such a combination of honest men, 
who without any regard to places would endeavor to 
extirpate all such furious zealots as would sacrifice 
one half of their country to the passion and interest 
of the other; as also such infamous hypocrites, that 
are for promoting their own advantage under color 
of the public good; with all the profligate immoral 
retainers to each side, that have nothing to recom- 
mend them but an implicit submission to their lead- 
ers, we should soon see that furious party-spirit 
extinguished, which may in time expose us to the 
derision and contempt of all the nations about us. 

A member of this society that would thus carefully 
employ himself in making room for merit, by throw- 
ing down the worthless and depraved part of man- 



130 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

kind from those conspicuous stations of life to which 
they have been sometimes advanced, and all this 
without any regard to his private interest, would be 
no small benefactor to his country. 

I remember to have read in Diodorus Siculus an 
account of a very active little animal, which I think 
he calls the ichneumon, that makes it the whole busi- 
ness of his life to break the eggs of the crocodile, 
which he is always in search after. This instinct is 
the more remarkable, because the ichneumon never 
feeds upon the eggs he has broken, nor in any other 
way finds his account in them. Were it not for the 
incessant labors of this industrious animal, Egypt, 
says the historian, would be overrun with crocodiles; 
for the Egyptians are so far from destroying those 
pernicious creatures, that they worship them as gods. 

If we look into the behavior of ordinary partisans, 
we shall find them far from resembling this disinter- 
ested animal; and rather acting after the example of 
the wild Tartars, who are ambitious of destroying a 
man of the most extraordinary parts and accomplish- 
ments, as thinking that upon his decease the same 
talents, whatever post they qualified him for, enter 
of course into his destroyer. 

As in the whole train of my speculations I have 
endeavored, as much as I am able, to extinguish that 
pernicious spirit of passion and prejudice which rages 
with the same violence in all parties, I am still the 
more desirous of doing some good in this particular 
because I observe that the spirit of party reigns more 
in the country than in the town. It here contracts a 
kind of brutality and rustic fierceness, to which men 
of a politer conversation are wholly strangers. It 
extends itself even to the return of the bow and the 



SIR ROGER AND POLITICS. 131 

hat; and at the same time that the heads of parties 
preserve toward one another an outward show of 
good-breeding, and keep up a perpetual intercourse 
of civilities, their tools that are dispersed in these 
outlying parts will not so much as mingle together at 
a cock-match.^ This humor fills the country with 
several periodical meetings of Whig jockeys and 
Tory foxhunters, not to mention the innumerable 
curses, frowns, and whispers it produces at a quarter- 
sessions. 

I do not know whether I have observed in any of 
my former papers, that my friends Sir Roger de 
Coverley and Sir Andrew Freeport are of different 
principles, the first of them inclined to the landed 
and the other to the moneyed interest. This humor 
is so moderate in each of them, that it proceeds no 
farther than to an agreeable raillery, which very 
often diverts the rest of the club. I find, however, 
that the Knight is a much stronger Tory in the coun- 
try than in town, which, as he has told me in my ear, 
is absolutely necessary for the keeping up his inter- 
est. In all our journey from London to his house 
we did not so much as bait at a Whig inn ; or if by 
chance the coachman stopped at a wrong place, one 
of Sir Roger's servants would ride up to his master 
full speed, and whisper to him that the master of the 
house was against such an one in the last election. 
This often betrayed us into hard beds and bad cheer; 
for we were not so inquisitive about the inn as the 
inn-keeper; and, provided our landlord's principles 

1. In the hnmorous Memoirs of P. P., Clerk of this Parish, 
tliere is one Robert Jenkins, a Tory farrier, " a man of bright 
parts and shrewd conceit," who " never shoed a horse of a Whig 
or a fanatic but he lamed him sorely." 



132 SIR ROGER BE COVERLEY. 

were sound, did not take any notice of the staleness 
of his provisions. This I found still the more incon- 
venient, because the better the host was, the worse 
generally were his accommodations ; the fellow know- 
ing very well that those who were his friends would 
take up with coarse diet and an hard lodging. For 
these reasons, all the while I was upon the road I 
dreaded entering into an house of any one that Sir 
Roger had applauded for an honest man. 

Since my stay at Sir Roger's in the country, I 
daily find more instances of this narrow party -humor. 
Being upon a bowling-green at a neighboring market- 
town the other day (for that is the place where the 
gentlemen of one side meet once a week), I observed 
a stranger among them of a better presence and gen- 
teeler behavior than ordinary; but was much sur- 
prised, that notwithstanding he was a very fair bet- 
ter, nobody would take him up. But upon inquiry 
I found that he was one who had given a disagree- 
able vote in a former parliament, foi^ which reason 
there was not a man upon that bowling-green who 
would have so much correspondence with him as to 
win his money of him. 

Among other instances of this nature, I must not 
omit one which concerns myself. Will Wimble was 
the other day relating several strange stories that he 
had picked up, nobody knows where, of a certain 
great man ; and upon my staring at him, as one that 
was surprised to hear such things in the country, 
which had never been so much as whispered in the 
town. Will stopped short in the thread of his dis- 
course, and after dinner asked my friend Sir Roger 
in his ear if he was sure that I was not a fanatic. 

It gives me a serious concern to see a spirit of 



SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES. 133 

dissension in the country; not only as it destroys 
virtue and common sense, and renders us in a man- 
ner barbarians towards one another, but as it per- 
petuates our animosities, widens our breaches, and 
transmits our present passions and prejudices to our 
posterity. For my own part, I am sometimes afraid 
that I discover the seeds of a civil war in these our 
divisions; and therefore cannot but bewail, as in 
their first principles, the miseries and calamities of 
our children.^ 



XXIV. SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES. 

Semper que recentes 
Convectare juvat prcedas, et vivere rapto!^ 

ViKGiL, ^neid, vii. 748. 

As I was yesterday riding out in the fields with 
my friend Sir Roger, we saw at a little distance from 
us a troop of gypsies. Upon the first discovery of 

1. The next day Addison began The Spectator with a passage 
which adds so agreeable a touch to the portrait of Sir Roger, 
that we copy it here, though the entire paper need not be in- 
cluded in a collection of Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. "It is 
our custom at Sir Roger's, upon the coming in of the post, to sit 
about a pot of coffee, and hear the old Knight read Dyers Let- 
ter ; which he does with his spectacles upon his nose, and in an 
audible voice, smiling very often at those little strokes of satire, 
which are so frequent in the writings of that author. I after- 
wards communicate to the knight such packets as I receive 
under the quality of Spectator. The following letter chan- 
cing to please him more than ordinary, I shall publish it at his 
request." The fiction of a visit at Sir Roger's country seat is 
preserved in the next paper still by a reference to certain char- 
acters living in Sir Roger's neighborhood. 

2. Hunting theii' sport, and plundering was their trade. 

Dryden. 



134 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

them, my friend was in some doubt whether he 
should not exert the justice of the peace upon such a 
band of lawless vagrants; but not having his clerk 
with him, who is a necessary counsellor on these 
occasions, and fearing that his poultry might fare 
the worse for it, he let the thought drop : but at the 
same time gave me a particular account of the mis- 
chiefs they do in the countr}^, in stealing people's 
goods and spoiling their servants. "If a stray piece 
of linen hangs upon an hedge," says Sir Roger, "they 
are sure to have it; if the hog loses his way in the 
fields, it is ten to one but he becomes their prey ; our 
geese cannot live in peace for them ; if a man pros- 
ecutes them with severity, his hen-roost is sure to 
pay for it: they generally straggle into these parts 
about this time of the year; and set the heads of our 
servant-maids so agog for husbands, that we do not 
expect to have any business done as it should be 
whilst they are in the country. I have an honest 
dairy-maid who crosses their hands with a piece of 
silver every summer, and never fails being promised 
the handsomest young fellow in the parish for her 
pains. Your friend the butler has been fool enough 
to be seduced by them; and, though he is sure to lose 
a knife, a fork, or a spoon every time his fortune is 
told him, generally shuts himself up in the pantry 
with an old gypsy for above half an hour once in a 
twelvemonth. Sweethearts are the things they live 
upon, which they bestow very plentifully u^^on all 
those that apply themselves to them. You see now 
and then some handsome young jades among them: 
the sluts have very often white teeth and black eyes." 
Sir Roger, observing that I listened with great 
attention to his account of a people who were so 



SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES. 135 

entirely new to me, told me that if I. would tliey 
should tell us our fortunes. As I was very well 
pleased with the Knight's proposal, we rid up and 
communicated our hands to them. A Cassandra of 
the crew, after having examined my lines very dili- 
gently, told me that I loved a pretty maid in a cor- 
ner; that I was a good woman's man; with some 
other particulars which I do not think proper to 
relate. My friend Sir Roger alighted from his 
horse, and exposing his palm to two or three that 
stood by him, they crumpled it into all shapes, and 
diligently scanned every wrinkle that could be made 
in it; when one of them, who was older and more 
sunburnt than the rest, told him that he had a widow 
in his line of life : ^ upon which the Knight cried, 
''Go, go, you are an idle baggage; " and at the same 
time smiled upon me. The gypsy, finding he was not 
displeased in his heart, told him, after a farther in- 
quiry into his hand, that his true love was constant, 
and that she should dream of him to-night : my old 
friend cried "Pish! " and bid her go on. The gypsy 
told him that he was a bachelor, but would not be so 
long; and that he was dearer to somebody than he 
thought. The Knight still repeated she was an idle 
baggage and bid her go on. "Ah, master," said the 
gypsy, "that roguish leer of yours makes a pretty 
woman's heart ache: you ha'n't that simper about 

the mouth for nothing ." The uncouth gibberish 

with which all this was uttered, like the darkness of 
an oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be 
short, the Knight left the money with her that he 
had crossed her hand with, and got up again on his 
horse. 

1. The term given in palmistry to the principal line of the 
band. 



136 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me that 
he knew several sensible people who believed these 
gypsies now and then foretold very strange things; 
and for half an hour together appeared more jocund 
than ordinary. In the height of his good humor, 
meeting a common beggar upon the road who was no 
conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his 
pocket was picked; that being a kind of palmistry at 
which this race of vermin are very dexterous. 

I might here entertain my reader with historical 
remarks on this idle profligate peojole, who infest all 
the countries of Europe, and live in the midst of 
governments in a kind of commonwealth by them- 
selves. But instead of entering into observations of 
this nature, I shall fill the remaining part of my 
paper with a story which is still fresh in Holland, 
and was printed in one of our monthly accounts about 
twenty years ago. '^As the trehachuyt^ or hackney- 
boat, which carries passengers from Leyden to Am- 
sterdam, was putting off, a boy running along the side 
of the canal desired to be taken in : which the master 
of the boat refused, because the lad had not quite 
money enough to pay the usual fare. An eminent 
merchant being pleased with the looks of the boy, 
and secretly touched with compassion towards him, 
paid the money for him,^ and ordered him to be 
taken on board. Upon talking with him afterwards, 
he found that he could speak readily in three or four 
languages, and learned upon farther examination 
that he had been stolen away when he was a child by 
a gypsy, and had rambled ever since with a gang of 
those strollers up and down several parts of Europe. 
It happened that the merchant, whose heart seems to 
1. Hardly more than threepence English. — Addison. 



SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES. 137 

have inclined towards the boy by a secret kind of 
instinct, had himself lost a child some years before. 
The parents, after a long search for him, gave him 
for drowned in one of the canals with which that 
country abounds ; and the mother was so afflicted at 
the loss of a fine boy, who was her only son, that she 
died for grief of it. Upon laying together all partic- 
ulars, and examining the several moles and marks by 
which the mother used to describe the child when he 
was first missing, the boy proved to be the son of the 
merchant, whose heart had so unaccountably melted 
at the sight of him. The lad was very well pleased 
to find a father who was so rich, and likely to leave 
him a good estate : the father on the other hand was 
not a little delighted to see a son return to him, 
whom he had given for lost, with such a strength 
of constitution, sharpness of understanding, and skill 
in languages." Here the printed story leaves off; 
but if I may give credit to reports, our linguist hav- 
ing received such extraordinary rudiments towards a 
good education, was afterwards trained up in every- 
thing that becomes a gentleman ; wearing off by little 
and little all the vicious habits and practices that he 
had been used to in the course of his peregrinations. 
Nay, it is said that he has since been employed in 
foreign courts upon national business, with great 
reputation to himself and honor to those who sent 
him, and that he has visited several countries as a 
public minister, in which he formerly wandered as a 

gypsy. 



138 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 



XXV. THE SPECTATOR ENDS HIS VISIT TO COVERLET 
HALL. 

IpscE rursum concedite sylvce} 

ViKGiL, Eclogues, x. 63. 

It is usual for a man who loves country sports to 
preserve the game in his own grounds, and divert 
himself upon those that belong to his neighbor. My 
friend Sir Roger generally goes two or three miles 
from his house, and gets into the frontiers of his 
estate, before he beats about in search of a hare or 
partridge, on purpose to spare his own fields, where 
he is always sure of finding diversion when the worst 
comes to the worst. By this means the breed about 
his house has time to increase and multiply; besides 
that the sport is the more agreeable w^here the game 
is the harder to come at, and where it does not lie so 
thick as to produce any perplexity or confusion in 
the pursuit. For these reasons the country gentle- 
man, like the. fox, seldom preys near his own home. 

In the same manner I have made a month's excur- 
sion out of the town, which is the great field of game 
for sportsmen of my species, to try my fortune in the 
country, where I have started several subjects, and 
hunted them down, with some pleasure to myself, 
and I hope to others. I am here forced to use a 
great deal of diligence before I can spring anything 
to my mind ; whereas in town, whilst I am following 
one character, it is ten to one but I am crossed in my 
way by another, and put up such a variety of odd 
creatures in both sexes, that they foil the scent of 
one another, and puzzle the chase. My greatest 
1. " Once more, ye woods, adieu." 



THE SPECTATOR ENDS HIS VISIT. 139 

difficulty in the country is to find sport, and, in 
town, to choose it. In the mean time, as I have 
given a whole month's rest to the cities ^ o£ London 
and Westminster, I promise myself abundance of 
new game upon my return thither. 

It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, 
since I find the whole neighborhood begin to grow 
very inquisitive after my name and cliaracter; my 
love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular way of 
life having raised a great curiosity in all these parts. 

The notions which have been framed of me are 
various : some look upon me as very proud, some as 
very modest, and some as very melancholy. Will 
Wimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observing 
me very much alone, and extremely silent when I am 
in company, is afraid I have killed a man. The 
country people seem to suspect me for a conjurer; 
and, some of them hearing of the visit which I made 
to Moll White, will needs have it that Sir Roger has 
brought down a cunning man with him, to cure the 
old woman, and free the country from her charms. 
So that the character which I go under in part of 
the neighborhood is what they here call a " White 
Witch." 2 

1. In English law a city is the capital of a diocese, and for a 
brief time in the middle of the sixteenth century Westminster 
Abbey was a cathedral, and Westminster became a city. It did 
not resign its privileges when the bishopric was suppressed, and 
remained a city. In Addison's time the two cities were less com- 
pactly one than now ; the boundary was marked on the main 
thoroughfare by Temple Bar where the Strand met Fleet Street. 

2. " According to popular belief, there were three classes of 
witches, — white, black, and gray. The first helped, but could 
not hurt ; the second the reverse ; and the third did both. 
White spirits caused stolen goods to be restored ; they charmed 



140 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, 
and is not of Sir Roger's party, has, it seems, said 
twice or thrice at his table, that he wishes Sir Roger 
does not harbor a Jesuit in his house, and that he 
thinks the gentlemen of the country would do very 
well to make me give some account of myself. 

On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are 
afraid the old Knight is imposed upon by a designing 
fellow, and as they have heard that he converses very 
promiscuously, when he is in town, do not know but 
he has brought down with him some discarded Whig, 
that is sullen and says nothing because he is out of 
place. 

Such is the variety of opinions which are here 
entertained of me, so that I pass among some for a 
disaffected person, and among others for a Popish 
23riest; among some for a wizard, and among others 
for a murderer ; and all this for no other reason, that 
I can imagine, but because I do not hoot and holloa 
and make a noise. It is true, my friend Sir Roger 
tells them, that it is my way^ and that I am only a 
philosopher; but this will not satisfy them. They 
think there is more in me than he discovers, and that 
I do not hold my tongue for nothing. 

For these and other reasons I shall set out for 
London to-morrow, having found by experience that 
the country is not a place for a person of my temper, 
who does not love jollity, and what they call good 
neighborhood. A man that is out of humor when an 
unexpected guest breaks in upon him, and does not 

away diseases, and did other beneficent acts ; neither did a little 
harmless mischief lie wholly out of their way. Dryden says, 
" ' At least as little honest as he could, 

Aud like white witches mischievously good.' " 

W. H. Wills. 



THE SPECTATOR ENDS HIS VISIT. 141 

care for sacrificing an afternoon to every chance- 
comer, that will be the master of his own time, and 
the pursuer of his own inclinations, makes but a very 
unsociable figure in this kind of life. I shall there- 
fore retire into the town, if I may make use of that 
phrase, and get into tlie crowd again as fast as I can, 
in order to be alone. I can there raise what specu- 
lations I please upon others, without being observed 
myself, and at the same time enjoy all the advantages 
of company with all the privileges of solitude. In 
the meanwhile, to finish the month, and conclude 
these my rural speculations, I shall here insert a let- 
ter from my friend Will Honeycomb, who has not 
lived a month for these forty years out of the smoke 
of London, and rallies me after his way upon my 
country life. 

"Dear Spec, — 

"I suppose this letter will find thee picking of 
daisies, or smelling to a lock of hay, or passing away 
thy time in some innocent country diversion of the 
like nature. I have, however, orders from the club 
to summon thee up to town, being all of us cursedly 
afraid thou wilt not be able to relish our company, 
after thy conversations with Moll White and Will 
Wimble. Pr'ythee don't send us up any more sto- 
ries of a cock and a bull, nor frighten the town with 
spirits and witches. Thy speculations begin to smell 
confoundedly of woods and meadows. If thou dost 
not come up quickly, we shall conclude that thou art 
in love with one of Sir Roger's dairy-maids. Ser- 
vice to the Knight. Sir Andrew is grown the cock 
of the club since he left us, and if he does not return 



« 



142 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

quickly will make every mother's son of us Common- 
wealth's men. 

Dear Spec, 

Thine eternally, 

Will Honeycomb." 



XXVI. THE SPECTATOR'S RETURN TO LONDON. 

Qui, aut tempus quid postulet non videt, aut plura loquitur, aut se 
ostentat, aut eorum quibuscum est . . . rationem non habet, . , . is inep- 
tus esse dicitur.^ 

Cicero, De Oratore, ii. 4 ; 17. 

Having notified to my good friend Sir Koger that 
I should set out for London the next day, his horses 
were ready at the appointed hour in the evening; 
and attended by one of his grooms, I arrived at the 
county town at twiliglit, in order to be ready for the 
stage-coach the day following. As soon as we ar- 
rived at the inn, the servant who waited upon me, 
inquired of the chamberlain, in my hearing, what 
company he had for the coach. The fellow answered, 
"Mrs. Betty Arable, the great fortune, and. the 
widow her mother; a recruiting officer (who took a 
place because they were to go); young Squire Quick- 
set, her cousin (that her mother wished her to be 
married to); Ephraim,^ the Quaker, her guardian; 
and a gentleman that had studied himself dumb from 
Sir Roger de Coverley's." I observed by what he 

1. The man who either does not see that he is taking up the 
time, or th'at he talks too much, or makes a display of himself, 
or does not take account of the persons he is with, that man is 
said to be without tact. 

2. Ephraim was a common term for Quakers and was derived 
from the description of the man who would not fight, in Psalm 
Ixviii. 9. 



THE SPECTATOR'S RETURN TO LONDON. 143 

said of myself, that according to his office, he dealt 
much in intelligence ; and doubted not but there was 
some foundation for his reports of the rest of the 
company, as well as for the whimsical account he 
gave of me. 

The next morning at daybreak we were all called ; 
and I, who know my own natural shyness, and en- 
deavor to be as little liable to be disputed with as 
possible, dressed immediately that I might make no 
one wait. The first preparation for our setting out 
was, that the captain's half pike was placed near the 
coachman, and a drum behind the coach. In the 
mean time the drummer, the captain's equipage, was 
very loud that none of the captain's things should 
be placed so as to be spoiled ; upon which his cloak 
bag was fixed in the seat of the coach ; and the cap- 
tain himself, according to a frequent, though invid- 
ious behavior of military men, ordered his man to 
look sharp, that none but one of the ladies should 
have the place he had taken fronting to the coach- 
box. 

We were in some little time fixed in our seats and 
sat with that dislike which people not too good- 
natured usually conceive of each other at first sight. 
The coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of 
familiarity : and we had not moved above two miles, 
when the widow asked the captain what success he 
had in his recruiting. The officer, with a frankness 
he believed very graceful, told her that indeed he 
had but very little luck, and had suffered much by 
desertion, therefore should be glad to end his warfare 
in the service of her or her fair daughter. "In a 
word," continued he, "I am a soldier, and to be 
plain is my character: you see me, madam, young, 



144 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

sound, and impudent ; ^ take me yourself, widow, or 
give me to her, I will be wholly at your disposal. I 
am a soldier of fortune, ha! " This was followed by 
a vain laugh of his own, and a deep silence of all the 
rest of the company. I had nothing left for it but to 
fall fast asleep, which I did with all speed. "Come," 
said he, "resolve upon it, we will make a w^edding at 
the next town : we will wake this j)leasant companion 
who has fallen asleep, to be the brideman, and" (giv- 
ing the Quaker a clap on the knee) he concluded, 
"this sly saint, who, I '11 warrant, understands what 's 
what as well as you or I, widow, shall give the bride 
as father." 

The Quaker, who happened to be a man of smart- 
ness, answered, "Friend, I take it in good part, that 
thou hast given me the authority of a father over this 
comely and virtuous child; and I must assure thee, 
that if I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her 
on thee. Thy mirth, friend, savoreth of folly : thou 
art a person of a light mind ; thy drum is a type of 
thee, it soundeth because it is empty. Verily it is 
not from thy fulness, but thy emptiness, that thou 
hast spoken this day. Friend, friend, we have hired 
this coach in partnership with thee to carry us to 
the great city; we cannot go any other way. This 
worthy mother must hear thee if thou wilt needs 
utter thy follies ; we cannot help it, friend, I say : if 
thou wilt, we must hear thee ; but if thou wert a man 
of understanding, thou wouldst not take advantage of 
thy courageous countenance to abash us children of 
peace. Thou art, thou sayest, a soldier; give quar- 
ter to us, wha cannot resist thee. Why didst thou 
fleer at our friend, who feigned himself asleep? He 

1. The captain praises himself for his freedom from bashfulness. 



THE SPECTATOR'S RETURN TO LONDON. 145 

said nothing, but liow dost thou know what he con- 
taineth? If thou speakest improper things in the 
hearing of this virtuous young virgin, consider it is 
an outrage against a distressed person that cannot 
get from thee: to speak indiscreetly what we are 
obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee in this 
public vehicle, is in some degree assaulting on the 
high road." 

Here Ephraim paused, and the captain with an 
happy and uncommon impudence (which can be con- 
victed and support itself at the same time) cries, 
"Faith, friend, I thank thee; I should have been a 
little impertinent if thou hadst not reprimanded me. 
Come, thou art, I see, a smoky old fellow, and I '11 
be very orderly the ensuing part of the journey. I 
was going to give myself airs, but, ladies, I beg par- 
don.'' 

The captain was so little out of humor, and our 
company was so far from being soured by this little 
ruffle, that Ephraim and he took a particular delight 
in being agreeable to each other for the future ; and 
assumed their different provinces in the conduct of 
the company. 1 Our reckonings, apartments, and 
accommodation fell under Ephraim; and the cap- 
tain looked to all disputes on the road, as the good 
behavior of our coachman, and the right we had of 
taking place as going to London of all vehicles com- 
ing from thence. 2 

1. If Steele was describing a journey from Worcester to Lon- 
don, he would have reckoned on three entire days. The coach 
did not then travel by night. Fielding's novel of Joseph A ndrews 
gives capital pictures of inns and roads, though the date is a 
little later than that of The Spectator. 

2. " Tliis rule of the road was occasioned by the bad condition 



146 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

The occurrences we met with were ordinary, and 
very little happened which could entertain by the 
relation of them : but when I considered the company 
we were in, I took it for no small good fortune that 
the whole journey was not spent in impertinences, 
which to one part of us might be an entertainment, 
to the other a suffering. 

What, therefore, Ephraim said when we were 
almost arrived at London, had to me an air not only 
of good understanding but good breeding. Upon 
the young lady's expressing her satisfaction in the 
journey, and declaring how delightful it had been to 
her, Ephraim declared himself as follows: "There is 
no ordinary part of human life which expresseth so 
much a good mind, and a right inward man, as his 
behavior upon meeting with strangers, especially 
such as may seem the most unsuitable companions to 
him: such a man, when he falleth in the way with 
persons of simplicity and innocence, however know- 
ing he may be in the ways of men, will not vaunt 
himself thereof ; but will the rather hide his superior- 
ity to them, that^ he may not be painful unto them. 
My good friend " (continued he, turning to the offi- 
cer), "thee and I are to part by and by, and perad- 
venture we may never meet again : but be advised by 
a plain man : modes and apparel are but trifles to the 
real man, therefore do not think such a man as thy- 
self terrible for thy garb, nor such a one as me con- 

of the public ways. On the best lines of communication ruts 
were so deep and obstructions so formidable that it was only in 
fine weather that the whole breadth of the road was available ; 
for on each side was often a quagmire of mud. Seldom could 
two vehicles pass each other imless one of them stopped." — 
W. H. Wills. 



SIR ROGER AND SIR ANDREW. 147 

temptible for mine. When two such as thee and I 
meet, with affections as we ought to have towards 
each other, thou shouldst rejoice to see my peaceable 
demeanor, and I should be glad to see thy strength 
and ability to protect me in it." 



XXVII. SIR ROGER AND SIR ANDREW. 

Hcec memini et victum frustra contendere Thyrsin} 

Virgil, Eclogues, vii. 69. 

There is scarce anything more common than ani- 
mosities between parties that cannot subsist but by 
their agreement: this was well represented in the 
sedition of the members of the human body in the 
old Roman fable. ^ It is often the case of lesser con- 
federate states against a superior power, which are 
hardly held together, though tlieir unanimity is ne- 
cessary for their common safety; and this is always 
the case of the landed and trading interests of Great 
Britain ; the trader is fed by the product of the land, 
and the landed man cannot be clothed but by the 
skill of the trader : and yet those interests are ever 
jarring. 

We had last winter an instance of this at our club, 
in Sir Roger de Coverley and Sir Andrew Freeport, 
between whom there is generally a constant, though 
friendly opposition of opinions. It happened that 
one of the company, in an historical discourse, was 
observing, that Carthaginian faith was a proverbial 
phrase to intimate breach of leagues. Sir Roger said 

1. I call to mind these things, and especially how Thyrsis, when 
put down, kept on arguing. 

2. A notable use of this story, first recorded by Livy, is in 
Shakespeare's Coriolanus, act I., scene 1. 



148 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

it could hardly be otherwise : that the Carthaginians 
were the greatest 'traders in the world; and as gain 
is the chief end of such a people, they never pursue 
any other : the means to it are never regarded ; they 
will, if it comes easily, get money honestly; but if 
not, they will not scruple to attain it by fraud, or 
cozenage: and indeed, what is the whole business of 
the trader's account, but to overreach him who trusts 
to his memory? But were that not so, what can 
there great and noble be expected from him whose 
attention is forever fixed upon balancing his books, 
and watching over his expenses? And at best let fru- 
gality and parsimony be the virtues of the merchant, 
how much is his punctual dealing below a gentleman's 
charity to the poor, or hospitality among his neigh- 
bors ? 

Captain Sentry observed Sir Andrew very diligent 
in hearing Sir Roger, and had a mind to turn the 
discourse, by taking notice in general, from the high- 
est to the lowest parts of human society, there was a 
secret, though unjust, way among men, of indulging 
the seeds of ill-nature and envy, by comparing their 
own state of life to that of another, and grudging the 
approach of their neighbor to their own ha])pine3s; 
and on the other side, he, who is the less at his ease, 
repines at the other, who he thinks has unjustly the 
advantage over him. Thus the civil and military 
lists look upon each other with much ill-nature; the 
soLlier repines at the courtier's power, and the cour- 
tier rallies the soldier's honor; or, to come to lower 
instances, the private men in the horse and foot of 
an army, the carmen and coachmen in the city streets, 
mutually look upon each other with ill-will, when 
they are in competition for quarters, or the way in 
their respective motions. 



SIR ROGER AND SIR ANDREW. 149 

"It is very well, good captain," interrupted Sir 
Andrew : " you may attempt to turn the discourse if 
you think fit; but I must however have a word or 
two with Sir Roger, who, I see, thinks he has paid 
me off, and been very severe upon the merchant. I 
shall not," continued he, " at this time remind Sir 
Roger of the great and noble monuments of charity 
and public spirit, which have been erected by mer- 
chants since the reformation, but at present content 
myself with what he allows us, parsimony and fru- 
gality. If it were consistent with the quality of so 
ancient a baronet as Sir Roger, to keep an account, 
or measure things by the most infallible way, that of 
numbers, he would prefer our parsimony to his hos- 
pitality. If to drink so many hogsheads is to be 
hospitable, we do not contend for the fame of that 
virtue; but it would be worth while to consider, 
whether so many artificers at work ten days together 
by my appointment, or so many peasants made merry 
on Sir Roger's charge, are the men more obliged? 
I believe the families of the artificers will thank me 
more than the households of the peasants shall Sir 
Roger. Sir Roger gives to his men, but I place 
mine above the necessity or obligation of my bounty. 
I am in very little pain for the Roman proverb upon 
the Carthaginian traders ; the Romans were their pro- 
fessed enemies: I am only sorry no Carthaginian 
histories have come to our hands: we might have 
been taught perhaps by them some proverbs against 
the Roman generosity, in fighting for, and bestowing 
other people's goods. But since Sir Roger has taken 
occasion, from an old proverb, to be out of humor 
with merchants, it should be no offence to offer one 
not quite so old, in their defence. When a man 



150 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

happens to break in Holland, they say of him that 
' he has not kept true accounts. ' This phrase, per- 
haps, among us, would appear a soft or humorous 
way of speaking, but with that exact nation it bears 
the highest reproach. For a man to be mistaken in 
the calculation of his expense, in his ability to answer 
future demands, or to be impertinently sanguine in 
putting his credit to too great adventure, are all in- 
stances of as much infamy, as with gayer nations 
to be failing in courage, or common honesty. 

"Numbers are so much the measure of everything 
that is valuable, that it is not possible to demonstrate 
the success of any action, or the prudence of any un- 
dertaking, without them. I say this in answer to 
what Sir Roger is pleased to say, ' that little that is 
truly noble can be expected from one who is ever 
poring on his cash-book, or balancing his accounts.' 
When I have my returns from abroad, I can tell to 
a shilling, by the help of numbers, the profit or loss 
by my adventure ; but I ought also to be able to show 
that I had reason for making it, either from my own 
experience or that of other people, or from a reason- 
able presumption that my returns will be sufficient 
to answer my expense and hazard ; and this is never 
to be done without the skill of numbers. For in- 
stance, if I am to trade to Turkey, I ought before- 
hand to know the demand of our manufactures there, 
as well as of their silks in England, and the custom- 
ary prices that are given for both in each country. 
I ought to have a clear knowledge of these matters 
beforehand, that I may presume upon sufficient re- 
turns to answer the charge of the cargo I have fitted 
out, the freight and assurance out and home, the cus- 
toms to the queen, and the interest of my own money, 



SIR ROGER AND SIR ANDREW. 151 

and besides all these expenses a reasonable profit to 
myself. Now what is there of scandal in this skill? 
What has the merchant done, that he should be so 
little in the good graces of Sir Roger? He throws 
down no man's enclosures, and tramples upon no 
man's corn; he takes nothing from the industrious 
laborer; he pays the poor man for his work; he com- 
municates his profit with mankind; by the prepara- 
tion of his cargo, and the manufacture of his returns, 
he furnishes employment and subsistence to greater 
numbers than the richest nobleman; and even the 
nobleman is obliged to him for finding out foreign 
markets for the produce of his estate, and for making 
a great addition to his rents: and yet 'tis certain 
that none of all these things could be done by him 
without the exercise of his skill in numbers. 

"This is the economy of the merchant, and the con- 
duct of the gentleman must be the same, unless by 
scorning to be the steward, he resolves the steward 
shall be the gentleman. The gentleman, no more 
than the merchant, is able, without the help of num- 
bers, to account for the success of any action, or the 
prudence of any adventure. If, for instance, the 
chase is his whole adventure, his only returns must 
be the stag's horns in the great hall, and the fox's 
nose upon the stable door. Without doubt Sir 
Roger knows the full value of these returns : and if 
beforehand he had computed the charges of the 
chase, a gentleman of his discretion would certainly 
have hanged up all his dogs: he would never have 
brought back so many fine horses to the kennel ; he 
would never have gone so often, like a blast, over 
fields of corn. If such too had been the conduct of 
all his ancestors, he might truly have boasted at this 



152 SIR ROGER BE COVERLEV, 

day, that the antiquity of his family had never been 
sullied by a trade ; a merchant had never been per- 
mitted with his whole estate to purchase a room for 
his picture in the gallery of the Coverleys, or to 
claim his descent from the maid of honor. But 't is 
very happy for Sir Roger that the merchant paid so 
dear for his ambition. 'Tis the misfortune of many 
other gentlemen to turn out of the seats of their an- 
cestors, to make way for such new masters as have 
been more exact in their accounts than themselves; 
and certainly he deserves the estate a great deal bet- 
ter who has got it by his industry, than he w^ho has 
lost it by his negligence." 

XXVIII. THE CRIES OF LONDON. 

. . . Linguce centum sunt, oraque centum, 
Ferrea vox.^ . . . 

ViKGiL, ^neid, vi. 625. 

There is nothing which more astonishes a for- 
eigner, and frights a country squire, than the Cries 
of London. My good friend Sir Roger often de- 
clares, that he cannot get them out of his head, or 
go to sleep for them, the first week that he is in 
town. On the contrary. Will Honeycomb calls them 
the Homage de la Ville,^ and prefers them to the 
sounds of larks and nightingales, with all the music of 
the fields and woods. I have lately received a letter 
from some very odd fellow upon this subject, which I 
shall leave with my reader, without saying anything 
further of it. 

1. A hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, 

And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs. — Dryden. 

2. Town warblers. 



THE CRIES OF LONDON. 153 

"Sir,— 

"I am a man of all business, and would willingly 
turn my head to anything for an honest liveli- 
hood. I have invented several projects for raising 
many millions of money without burthening the sub- 
ject, but I cannot get the parliament to listen to me, 
who look upon me, forsooth, as a crack ^ and a pro- 
jector; so that despairing to enrich either myself or 
my country by this public-spiritedness, I would make 
some proposals to you relating to a design which I 
have very much at heart, and which may procure me 
a handsome subsistence, if you will be pleased to 
recommend it to the cities of London and Westmin- 
ster. 

""The post I would aim at is to be Comptroller- 
general of the London Cries, which are at present 
under no manner of rules or discii3line. I think I 
am pretty well qualified for this place, as being a 
man of very strong lungs, of great insight into all 
the branches of our British trades and manufactures, 
and of a competent skill in music. 

"The cries of London may be divided into vocal 
and instrumental. As for the latter, they are at 
present under a very great disorder. A freeman ^ of 
London has the privilege of disturbing a whole street 
for an hour together, with the twanking of a brass 
kettle or a frying-pan. The watchman's thump at 
midnight startles us in our beds, as much as the 
breaking in of a thief. The sowgelder's horn has 
indeed something musical in it, but this is seldom 

1. If Addison had been writing to-day he would probably have 
used the word " crank." 

?. A member that is of one of the corporations, which were 
given certain privileges. 



154 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

heard within the liberties. I would therefore pro- 
pose, that no instrument of this nature should be 
made use of, which I have not tuned and licensed, 
after having carefully examined in what manner it 
may affect the ears of her Majesty's liege subjects. 

"Vocal cries are of a much larger extent, and, 
indeed, so full of incongruities and barbarisms, that 
we appear a distracted city to foreigners, who do not 
comprehend the meaning of such enormous outcries. 
Milk is generally sold in a note above ela,^ and in 
sounds so exceeding shrill, that it often sets our teeth 
on edge. The chimney-sweeper is confined to no 
certain pitch; he sometimes utters himself in the 
deepest base, and sometimes in the sharpest treble; 
sometimes in the highest, and sometimes in the low- 
est note of the gamut. The same observation might 
be made on the retailers of small coal, not to mention 
broken glasses or brick-dust. In these, therefore, 
and the like cases, it should be my care to sweeten 
and mellow the voices of these itinerant tradesmen, 
before they make their appearance in our streets, as 
also to accommodate their cries to their respective 
wares; and to take care in particular that those may 
not make the most noise who have the least to sell, 
which is ver}^ observable in the venders of card- 
matches, to whom I cannot but apply that old prov- 
erb of 'Much cry, but little wool.' 

"Some of these last mentioned musicians are so 
very loud in the sale of these trifling manufactures, 
that an honest splenetic gentleman of my acquaint- 
ance bargained with one of them never to come into 
the street where he lived : but what was the effect of 
this contract? why, the whole tribe of card-match- 
1. That is, a note above la or A. 



THE CRIES OF LONDON. 155 

makers which frequent that quarter, passed by his 
door the very next day, in hopes of being bought off 
after the same manner. 

"It is another great imperfection in our London 
cries, that there is no just time nor measure observed 
in them. Our news should, indeed, be published in 
a very quick time, because it is a commodity that 
will not keep cold. It should not, however, be cried 
with the same precipitation as 'fire: ' yet this is gen- 
erally the case. A bloody battle alarms the town 
from one end to another in an instant. Every mo- 
tion of the French is published in so great a hurry, 
that one would think the enemy were at our gates. 
This likewise I would take upon me to regulate in 
such a manner, that there should be some distinction 
made between the spreading of a victory, a march, 
or an encampment, a Dutch, a Portugal, or a Span- 
ish mail. Nor must I omit, under this head, those 
excessive alarms with which several boisterous rustics 
infest our streets in turnip season; and which are 
more inexcusable, because these are wares which are 
in no danger of cooling upon their hands. 

''There are others who affect a very slow time, 
and are, in my opinion, much more tunable than the 
former ; the cooper, in particular, swells his last note 
in an hollow voice, that is not without its harmony : 
nor can I forbear being inspired with a most agree- 
able melancholy, when I hear that sad and solemn 
air with which the public are very often asked, if they 
have any chairs to mend? Your own memory may 
suggest to you many other lamentable ditties of the 
same nature, in which the music is wonderfully lan- 
guishing and melodious. 

"I am always pleased with that particular time of 



156 SIR ROGER DE COVE RLE Y. 

the year which is proper for the pickling of dill and 
cucumbers; but, alas, this cry, like the song of the 
nightingale, is not heard above two months. It 
would, therefore, be worth while, to consider whether 
the same air might not in some cases be adapted to 
other words. 

"It might likewise deserve our most serious con- 
sideration, how far, in a well-regulated city, those 
humorists are to be tolerated, who, not contented 
with the traditional cries of their forefathers, have 
invented particular songs, and tunes of their own: 
such as was, not many years since, the pastry-man, 
commonly known by the name of the colly-molly- 
puff; and such as is at this day the vender of powder 
and wash-balls, who, if I am rightly informed, goes 
under the name of Powder Watt. 

"I must not here omit one particular absurdity 
wdiich runs through this whole vociferous generation, 
and which renders their cries very often not onl}^ 
incommodious, but altogether useless to the public; 
I mean that idle accomplishment wdiich they all of 
them aim at, of crying so as not to be understood. 
Whether or no they have learned this from several 
of our affected singers, I will not take upon me to 
say; but most certain it is, that people know the 
wares they deal in rather by their tunes than by their 
words ; insomuch, that I have sometimes seen a coun- 
try boy run out to buy apples of a bellows-mender, 
and ginger-bread from a grinder of knives and scis- 
sors. Nay, so strangely infatuated are some very 
eminent artists of this particular grace in a cry, that 
none but their acquaintance are able to guess at their 
profession; for who else can know that 'Work if I 
had it ' should be the signification of a corn-cutter. 



SIR ROGER COMES TO TOWN. 157 

"Forasmiicii, therefore, as persons of this rank are 
sehlom men of genius or capacity, I think it would 
be very proper, that some man of good sense, and 
sound judgment, should preside over these public 
cries, who should permit none to lift up their voices 
in our streets, that have not tuneable throats, and 
are not only able to overcome the noise of the crowd, 
and the rattling of coaches, but also to vend their 
respective merchandises in apt phrases, and in the 
most distinct and agreeable sounds. I do therefore 
humbly recommend myself as a person rightly quali- 
fied for this post : and if I meet with fitting encour- 
agement, shall communicate some other projects 
which I have by me, that may no less conduce to the 
emolument of the public. 

'' I am, Sir, &c. 

"Ralph Crotchet." 



XXIX. SIR ROGER COMES TO TOWN. ' 

^vo rarissima nostra 
Simplicitas.^ 

Ovid, Ars Amatoria, i. 241. 

I WAS this morning surprised with a great knock- 
ing at the door, when my landlady's daughter came 
up to me, and told me that there was a man below 
desired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who 
it was, she told me it was a very grave elderly per- 
son, but that she did not know his name. I imme- 
diately went down to him. and found him to be the 
coachman of my worthy friend Sir Roger de Cover- 
ley. He told me that his master came to town last 
night, and would be glad to take a turn with me in 
1. Most rare is now our old simplicity. — Dryden. 



158 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

Gray's Inn Walks. As I was wondering in myself 
what had brought Sir Roger to town, not having 
lately received any letter from him, he told me that 
his master was come up to get a sight of Prince 
Eugene,^ and that he desired I would immediately 
meet him. 

I was not a little pleased with the curiosity of the 
old Knight, though I did not much wonder at it, 
having heard him say more than once in private dis- 
course, that he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so 
the Knight always calls him) to be a greater man 
than Scanderbeg.^ 

I was no sooner come into Gray's Inn AValks, but 
I heard my friend upon the terrace hemming twice 
or thrice to himself with great vigor, for he loves to 
clear his pipes in good air (to make use of his own 
phrase), and is not a little pleased with any one who 
takes notice of the strength which he still exerts in 
his morning hems. 

I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the 
good old man, who before he saw me was engaged in 
conversation with a beggar-man that had asked an 
alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for 
not finding out some work ; but at the same time saw 

1. Prince Eugene of Savoy (1667-1736) shared with the Duke 
of Marlborough in the honors which fell to the English, Aus- 
trian, and Dutch forces in the war with France and Spain which 
was now drawing to a close. In the intrigues of English politics 
the enemies of Marlborough endeavored to make a breach be- 
tween him and Eugene, but without success. The enthusiasm 
over the prince was very great, so that the houses and streets 
were crowded whenever he went abroad. 

2. Iskander (Alexander) Bey, the name by which the heroic 
George Castriot, an Albanian who fought the Turks in the latter 
half of the fifteenth century, was known. 



SIR ROGER COMES TO TOWN. 159 

him put his hand in his pocket and give him six- 
pence. 

Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, 
consisting of many kind shakes of the hand, and sev- 
eral affectionate looks which we cast upon one an- 
other. After which the Knight told me my good 
friend his chaplain was very well, and much at my 
service, and that the Sunday before he had made a 
most incomparable sermon out of Doctor Barrow.' 
''I have left," says he, "all my affairs in his hands, 
and being willing to lay an obligation upon him, 
have deposited with him thirty marks, ^ to be distrib- 
uted among his poor parishioners." 

He then proceeded to acquaint me with the welfare 
of Will Wimble. Upon which he put his hand into 
his fob and presented me in his name with a tobacco - 
stopfer, telling me that Will had been busy all the 
beginning of the winter, in turning great quantities 
of them ; and that he made a present of one to every 
gentleman in the country who has good principles, 
and smokes. He added, that poor Will was at pres- 
ent under great tribulation, for that Tom Touchy 
had taken the law of him for cutting some hazel 
sticks out of one of his hedges. 

Among other pieces of news which the Knight 
brought from his country seat, he informed me that 
Moll White was dead ; and that about a month after 
her death the wind was so very high, that it blew 
down the end of one of his barns. "But for my 
•own part," says Sir Eoger, "I do not think that the 
old woman had any hand in it." 

He afterwards fell into an account of the diver- 

1. The value of a mark, which was not, however, a coin any 
more than a guinea is, was thirteen shiUings and fourpence. 



160 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

slons which had passed in his house during the holi- 
days; for Sir Roger, after the laudable custom of his 
ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I 
learned from him that he had killed eight fat hogs 
for the season, that he had dealt about his chines 
very liberally amongst his neighbors, and that in j^ar- 
ticular he had sent a string of hogs -puddings with a 
pack of cards to every poor family in the parish. 
"I have often thought," says Sir Roger, "it happens 
very well that Christmas should fall out in the mid- 
dle of the winter. It is the most dead uncomfortable 
time of the year, when the poor people would suffer 
very much from their poverty and cold, if they had 
not good cheer, warm fires, and Christmas gambols 
to support them. I love to rejoice their poor hearts 
at this season, and to see the whole village merry in 
my great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to 
my small beer, and set it a running for twelve daj^s 
to every one that calls for it. I have always a piece 
of cold beef and a mince-pie upon the table, and am 
wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass away a 
whole evening in playing their innocent tricks, and 
smutting one another. Our friend Will Wimble is 
as merry as any of them, and shows a thousand 
roguish tricks upon these occasions." 

I was very much delighted with the reflection of 
my old friend, which carried so much goodness in it. 
He then launched out into the praise of the late Act 
of Parliament ^ for securing the Church of England, 
and told me, with great satisfaction, that he believed 
it already began to take effect, for tlmt a rigid Dis- 

1. An act flesig-ned to strengthen the Test Act, which required 
all persons holding offices under the crown to take the Sacrament 
according to the rites of the Church of England. 



SIR ROGER COMES TO TOWN. 161 

senter, who chanced to dine at his house on Christ- 
mas day, had been observed to eat very plentifully 
of his plum -porridge. 

After having dispatched all our country matters, 
Sir Roger made several inquiries concerning the club, 
and particularly of his old antagonist Sir Andrew 
Freeport. He asked me with a kind of smile 
whether Sir Andrew had not taken advantage of 
his absence to vent among them some of his republi- 
can doctrines; but soon after, gathering up his coun- 
tenance into a more than ordinary seriousness, "Tell 
me truly," says he, ''don't you think Sir Andrew 
had a hand in the Pope's Procession ?" ^ — but with- 
out giving me time to answer him, "Well, well," 
says he, "I know you are a wary man, and do not 
care to talk of public matters." 

The Knight then asked me if I had seen Prince 
Eugenio, and made me promise to get him a stand ^ 
in some convenient place where he might have a full 
sight of that extraordinary man, whose presence does 
so much honor to the British nation. He dwelt very 
long on the praises of this great general, and I found 
that, since I was with him in the country, he had 
drawn many observations together out of his reading 
in Baker's Chronicle,^ and other authors, who always 

1. The 17th of November, the date of Queen Elizabeth's ac- 
cession, was still celebrated by carrying in procession the head 
of the Pope in effigy, which was afterward burned. At the an- 
niversary just passed party feeling ran high in consequence of 
the treaty impending with France, which was looked upon as a 
concession to the papal interests, and the authorities seized these 
effigies. 

2. The prince Eugenio stood godfather to a child of Steele, so 
The Spectator might be expected to have some influence. 

3. Chronicle of the Kings of England from the time of the 



162 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

lie in his hall window, which very much redound to 
the honor of this prince. 

Having passed away the greatest part of the morn- 
ing in hearing the Knight's reflections, which were 
partly private, and partly political, he asked me if I 
would smoke a pipe with him over a dish of coifee at 
Squire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in 
complying with everything that is agreeable to him, 
and accordingly waited on him to the coffee-house, 
where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes of 
the whole room. He had no sooner seated himself 
at the upper end of the high table, but he called for 
a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a dish of coffee, a 
wax candle, and the Supplement,^ with such an air 
of cheerfulness and good -humor, that all the boys in 
the coffee-room (who seemed to take pleasure in serv- 
ing him) were at once employed on his several er- 
rands, insomuch that nobody else could come at a 
dish of tea, till the Knight had got all his conven- 
iences about him. 



XXX. SIR ROGER IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit, et Ancus.^ 

Horace, Epistles, I. v. 27. 

My friend Sir Eoger de Coverley told me t'other 
night that he had been reading my paper upon West- 

Romans' Government unto the Death of King James, by Sir Rich- 
ard Baker. 

1. Publishers of newspapers then issued supplements at later 
hours than the regular edition, when special news came in. 

2. Still it remains to go whither Numa has gone down, and 
Ancus. 



SIR ROGER IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 163 

minster Abbey, ^ in which, says he, there are a great 
many ingenious fancies. He told me, at the same 
time, that he observed I had promised another paper 
upon the tombs, and that he should be glad to go and 
see them with me, not having visited them since he 
had read history. I could not at first imagine how 
this came into the Knight's head, till I recollected 
that he had been very busy all last summer upon 
Baker's Chronicle, which he has quoted several times 
in his disputes with Sir Andrew Freeport since his 
last coming to town. Accordingly, I promised to 
call upon him the next morning, that we might go 
together to the Abbey. 

I found the Knight under his butler's hands, who 
always shaves him. He was no sooner dressed than 
he called for a glass of the Widow Trueby's water, ^ 
which he told me he always drank before he went 
abroad. He recommended me to a dram of it at the 
same time with so much heartiness, that I could not 
forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, 
I found it very unpalatable ; upon which the Knight, 
observing that I had made several wry faces, told me 
that he knew I should not like it at first, but that it 
was the best thing in the world against the stone or 
gravel. 

I could have wished, indeed, that he had acquainted 
me with the virtues of it sooner ; but it was too late 
to complain, and I knew what he had done was out 
of good-will. Sir Roger told me, further, that he 
looked upon it to be very good for a man whilst he 

1. Addison's paper is No. 26, published March 30, the previous 
year. 

2. It was a time of innumerable compounds supposed to act as 
tonics or curatives. Brandy was the base of most of them. 



\ 



164 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

stayed in town, to keep off infection ; and that he got 
together a quantity of it upon the first news of the 
sickness being at Dantzic.^ When of a sudden, turn- 
ing short to one of his servants, who stood behind 
him, he bade him call a hackney-coach, and take 
care it was an elderly man that drove it. 

He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's 
water, telling me that the Widow Trueby was one 
who did more good than all the doctors and apothe- 
caries in the county; that she distilled every poppy 
that grew within five miles of her; that she distrib- 
uted her water gratis among all sorts of people: to 
which the Knight added, that she had a very great 
jointure, and that the whole country would fain have 
it a match between him and her; "And truly," says 
Sir Roger, "if I had not been engaged,^ perhaps I 
could not have done better." 

His discourse was broken off by his man's telling 
him he had called a coach. Upon our going to it, 
after having cast his eye upon the wheels, he asked 
the coachman if his axletree was good ; upon the f el- 
low 's telling him he would warrant it, the Knight 
turned to me, told me he looked like an honest man, 
and went in without further ceremony. 

We had not gone far, when Sir Roger, popping 
out his head, called the coachman down from his 
box, and, upon his presenting himself at the window, 
asked him if he smoked : as I was considering what 
this would end in, he bade him stop by the way at 
any good tobacconist's, and take in a roll of their 

1. The great plague of Dantzic which swept away nearly half 
the inhabitants was in 1709. 

2. Not in the sense of betrothed, but in that of having his 
affections engaged. 



SIR ROGER IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 165 

best Virginia. Nothing material haj^pened in the 
remaining part of our journey till we were set down 
at the west end of the Abbey. 

As we went up the body of the church, the Knight 
pointed at the trophies upon one of the new monu- 
ments, and cried out, "A brave man, I warrant 
him! " Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudesley 
Shovel, 1 he flung his hand that way, and cried, "Sir 
Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!" As we 
stood before Busby's ^ tomb, the Knight uttered him- 
self again after the same manner, — "Dr. Busby — 
a great man! he whipped my grandfather — a very 
great man ! I should have gone to him myself if I 
had not been a blockhead — a very great man ! " 

We were immediately conducted into the little 
chapel^ on the right hand. Sir Koger, planting 
himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive 
to everything he said, particularly to the account he 
gave us of the lord who had cut off the King of 
Morocco's head. Among several other figures, he 
was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil* 
upon his knees ; and, concluding them all to be great 
men, was conducted to the figure which represents 
that martyr to good housewifery, who died by the 
prick of a needle.^ Upon our interpreter's telling us 

1. An English admiral who was drowned in 1707 when his 
fleet was wrecked off the Scilly Isles. 

2. Dr. Busby was headmaster of Westminster school for fifty- 
five years. Although he died in 1695, a game of cards known as 
Dr. Busby's school was familiar in America a generation ago, 
and perhaps has not yet gone wholly out of play. 

3. The chapel of St. Edmund. 

4. The great Lord Burleigh of Elizabeth's reign. 

5. Addison is probably slyly repeating the verger's foolish 
tale. The figure is of Elizabeth Russell, who is pointing her 
forefinger at a death's skull on the pedestal. 



166 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

that she was a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth, 
the Knight was very inquisitive into her name and 
family; and, after having regarded her finger for 
some time, "I wonder," says he, "that Sir liichard 
Baker has said nothing of her in his Chronicle." 

We were then conveyed to the two coronation 
chairs, where my old friend, after having heard that 
the stone underneath the most ancient of them, which 
was brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pil- 
lar, ^ sat himself down in the chair; and, looking 
like the figure of an old Gothic king, asked our in- 
terpreter what authority they had to say that Jacob 
had ever been in Scotland. The fellow, instead of 
returning him an answer, told him that he hoped his 
honor would pay his forfeit. I could observe Sir 
Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; 
but, our guide not insisting upon his demand, the 
Knight soon recovered his good humor, and whis- 
pered in my ear that if Will Wimble were with us, 
and saw those two chairs, it would go hard but he 
would get a tobacco-stopper out of one or t'other of 
them. 

Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon 
Edward the Third's sword, and, leaning upon the 
pommel of it, gave us the whole history of the Black 
Prince; concluding that, in Sir Richard Baker's 
opinion, Edward the Third was one of the greatest 
princes that ever sat upon the English throne. 

We were then shown Edward the Confessor's 
tomb, upon which Sir Roger acquainted us that he 

1. Jacob's Pillar or pillow was the name given to the stone 
wliich was set in the chair in which Scottish kings had been 
crowned since the ninth century till Edward the First brought it 
to Westminster in 1297 upon the conquest of Scotland. 



SIR ROGER IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 167 

was the first who touched for the evil,^ and after- 
wards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his 
head, and told us there was fine reading in the cas- 
ualties in that reign. 

Our conductor then pointed to that monument 
where there is the figure of one of our English kings 
without an head ; ^ and upon giving us to know that 
the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen 
away several years since, "Some Whig, I '11 warrant 
you," says Sir Roger: "you ought to lock up your 
kings better ; they will carry off the body too if you 
don't take care." 

The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen 
Elizabeth gave the Knight great opportunities of 
shining and of doing justice to Sir Richard Baker, 
who, as our Knight observed with some surprise, had 
a great many kings in him whose monuments he had 
not seen in the Abbey. 

For my own part, I could not but be pleased to 
see the Knight show such an honest passion for the 
glory of his country, and such a respectful gratitude 
to the memory of its princes. 

I must not omit that the benevolence of my good 
old friend, which flows out towards every one he con- 
verses with, made him very kind to our interpreter, 
whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man ; for 
which reason he shook him by the hand at parting, 

1. Scrofula was called the "king's evil" from the superstition' 
that it could be cured by the touch of a king truly anointed. 
The superstition was by no means dead in Queen Anne's time. 
Dr. Johnson, who was a victim of the disease, remembered being 
taken to Queen Anne to be cured. 

2. The king without a head was Henry V. The head had been 
of solid silver, the rest of the figure being plated. 



168 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

telling liim that he should be very glad to see him 
at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk over 
these matters with him more at leisure. 



^ XXXI. SIR ROGER UPON BEARDS. 

Stolidam prcebet tibi vellere harham.'^ 

Persius, Satires, ii. 28. 

When I was last with my friend Sir Roger in 
Westminster Abbey, I observed that he stood longer 
than ordinary before the bust of a venerable old man. 
I was at a loss to guess the reason of it; when, after 
some time, he pointed to the figure, and asked me if 
I did not think that our forefathers looked much 
wiser in their beards than we do without them? 
"For my part," says he, "when I am walking in my 
gallery in the country, and see my ancestors, who 
many of them died before they were of my age, I 
cannot forbear regarding them as so many old patri- 
archs, and at the same time looking upon myself as 
an idle smockfaced young fellow. I love to see your 
Abrahams, your Isaacs, and your Jacobs, as we have 
them in old pieces of taj^estry, with beards below 
their girdles, that cover half the hangings." The 
Knight added, "if I would recommend beards in one 
of my papers, and endeavor to restore human faces 
to their ancient dignity, that, upon a month's warn- 
ing he would undertake to lead up the fashion him- 
self in a pair of whiskers." 

I smiled at my friend's fanc}^; but, after we 
parted, could not forbear reflecting on the metamor- 
phosis our faces have undergone in this particular. 

The beard, conformable to the notion of my friend 
J. " Holds out his foolish beard for thee to pluck." 



SIR ROGER UPON BEARDS. 169 

Sir Koger, was for many ages looked upon as the 
type of wisdom. Lucian more than once rallies the 
philosophers of his time, who endeavored to rival 
one another in beard; and represents a learned man 
who stood for a professorship in philosophy, as un- 
qualified for it by the shortness of his beard. 

^lian, in his account of Zoilus, the pretended 
critic, who wrote against Homer and Plato, and 
thought himself wiser than all who had gone before 
him, tells us that this Zoilus had a very long beard 
that hung down upon his breast, but no hair ujion 
his head, which he always kept close shaved, regard- 
ing, it seems, the hairs of his head as so many suck- 
ers, which, if they had been suffered to grow, might 
have drawn away the nourishment from his chin, and 
by that means have starved his beard. 

I have read somewhere, that one of the popes 
refused to accept an edition of a saint's works, which 
were presented to him, because the saint, in his effi- 
gies before the book, was drawn without a beard. 

We see by these instances what homage the world 
has formerly paid to beards ; and that a barber was 
not then allowed to make those depredations on the 
faces of the learned, which have been permitted him 
of later years. 

Accordingly several wise nations have been so 
extremely jealous of the least ruffle offered to their 
beard, that they seem to have fixed the point of 
honor principally in that part. The Spaniards were 
wonderfully tender in this particular. Don Quevedo, 
in his third vision on the last judgment, has carried 
the humor very far, when he tells us that one of his 
vain-glorious countrymen, after having received sen- 
tence, was taken into custody by a couple of evil 



170 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

spirits ; but that his guides happening to disorder his 
mustachoes, they were forced to recompose them with 
a pair of curling-irons, before they could get him to 
file off. 

If we look into the history of our own nation, we 
shall find that the beard flourished in the Saxon 
heptarchy, but was very much discouraged under the 
Norman line. It shot out, however, from time to 
time, in several reigns under different shapes. The 
last effort it made seems to have been in Queen 
Mary's days, as the curious reader may find if he 
pleases to peruse the figures of Cardinal Pole and 
Bishop Gardiner ; though, at the same time, I think 
it may be questioned, if zeal against popery has not 
induced our Protestant painters to extend the beards 
of these two persecutors beyond their natural dimen- 
sions, in order to make them appear the more terrible. 

I find but few beards worth taking notice of in the 
reio:n of Kino- James the First. 

During the civil wars there appeared one, which 
makes too great a figure in story to be passed over in 
silence: I mean that of the redoubted Hudibras,^ an 
account of which Butler has transmitted to posterity 
in the following lines : 

His tawny beard was th' equal grace 
Botli of his wisdom and his face ; 
In cut and dye so like a tile, 
A sudden view it would beguile ; 
The upper part thereof was whey, 
The nether orange inixt with gray. 

The whisker continued for some time among us 
after the expiration of beards; but this is a subject 

1. A famous satire on the Puritans by Samuel Butler, pub- 
lished in three parts in 1663, 1664, 1678. 



SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY. 171 

which I shall not here enter upon, having discussed 
it at large in a distinct treatise, which I keep by me 
in manuscript, upon the mustachoe. 

If my friend Sir Roger's project of introducing 
beards should take effect, I fear the luxury of the 
present age would make it a very expensive fashion. 
There is no question but the beaux would soon pro- 
vide themselves with false ones of the lightest colors 
and the most immoderate lengths. A fair beard, of 
the tapestry size Sir Roger seems to approve, could 
not come under twenty guineas. The famous golden 
beard of ^sculapius would hardly be more valuable 
than one made in the extravagance of the fashion. 

Besides, we are not certain that the ladies would 
not come into the mode, when they take the air on 
horseback. They already appear in hats and feath- 
ers, coats and jjeriwigs ; and I see no reason why we 
should not suppose that they would have their riding- 
beards on the same occasion. 

XXXII. SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY. 

Bespicere exemplar vitce morumque jubebo 
Doctum imitator em, el veras hinc ducere voces.^ 

Horace, Ars Poetica, 32T, 328. 

My friend Sir Roger de Coverley, when we last 
met together at the Club, told me that he had a great 
mind to see the new tragedy ^ with me, assuring me, 

1. I '11 bid him look for a model of life and mamiers, 

Make him a skilled copyist : so shall he shape his speech 
aright. 

2. Addison was ready to nse his creation in the way of helping 
his friend Ambrose Phillips who had translated and adapted to 
the English stage Racine's Andromaque under the title The Dis- 
tressed Mother. 



172 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

at the same time, that he had not been at a play 
these twenty years. "The last I saw," said Sir 
Roger, "was the 'Committee,'^ which I should not 
have gone to neither, had not I been told beforehand 
that it was a good Church of England comedy." He 
then proceeded to inquire of me who this distressed 
mother was, and, upon hearing that she was Hector's 
widow, he told me that her husband was a brave man, 
and that when he was a school- boy, he had read his 
life at the end of the dictionar}^ My friend asked 
me, in the next place, if there would not be some 
danger in coming home late, in case the Mohocks ^ 
should be abroad. "I assure you," says he, "I 
thought I had fallen into their hands last night, for 
I observed two or three lusty black men that followed 
me half way up Fleet Street, and mended their pace 
behind me in proportion as I put on to get away from 
them. You must know," continued the Knight with 
a smile, "I fancied they had a mind to Jnoit me, for 
I remember an honest gentleman in my neighborhood 
who was served such a trick in King Charles the 
Second's time; for which reason he has not ventured 
himself in town ever since. I might have shown 
them very good sport had this been their design; for, 
as I am an old foxhunter, I should have turned and 

1. The Committee, or The Faithful Irishman, by Sir Robert 
Howard, Dryden's brother-in-law, was a play ridiculing the 
Puritans, which was put on the stage in the early days of the 
Restoration. 

2. A gang of London rowdies who infested the streets at this 
time. They are frequently referred to in The Spectator, and 
their name is one of the forms of Mohawk. It will be remem- 
bered that Queen Anne's war was at its height at this time, and 
many stories were current in London of the ferocity of the 
Mohawk Indians. 



SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY. 173 

dodged, and liave played them a thousand tricks they 
had never seen in their lives before." Sir Roger 
added that if these gentlemen had any such intention 
they did not succeed very well in it; "for I threw 
them out," says he, "at the end of Norfolk Street, 
where I doubled the corner and got shelter in my 
lodgings before they could imagine what was become 
of me. However," says the Knight, "if Captain 
Sentry will make one with us to-morrow night, and if 
you will both of you call upon me about four o'clock, 
that we may be at the house before it is full, I will 
have my own coach in readiness to attend 3^ou, for 
John tells me he has got the fore wheels mended." 

The captain, who did not fail to meet me there at 
the appointed hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for 
that he had put on the same sword which he made 
use of at the battle of Steenkirk. Sir Roger's ser- 
vants, and among the rest my old friend the butler, 
had, I found, provided themselves with good oaken 
plants to attend their master upon this occasion. 
When he had placed him in his coach, with myself 
at his left hand, the captain before him, and his but- 
ler at the head of his footmen in the rear, we con- 
voyed him in safety to the playhouse, where, after 
having marched up the entry in good order, the cap- 
tain and I went in with him, and seated him betwixt 
us in the pit. As soon as the house was full, and 
the candles lighted, my old friend stood up and 
looked about him with that pleasure which a mind 
seasoned with humanity naturally feels in itself at 
the sight of a multitude of people who seem pleased 
with one another, and partake of the same common 
entertainment. I could not but fancy to myself, as 
the old man stood up in the middle of the pit, that 



174 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 

he made a very proper centre to a tragic audience. 
Upon the entering of Pj'rrhus, the Knight told me 
that he did not believe the King of France himself 
had a better strut. I was, indeed, very attentive to 
my old friend's remarks, because I looked upon them 
as a piece of natural criticism ; and was well pleased 
to hear him, at the conclusion of almost every scene, 
telling me that he could not imagine how the play 
would end. One while he appeared much concerned 
for Andromache ; and a little while after as much for 
Hermione ; and was extremely puzzled to think what 
would become of Pyrrhus. 

When Sir Roger saw Andromache's obstinate re- 
fusal to her lover's importunities, he whispered me 
in the ear, that he was sure she would never have 
him ; to which he added, with a more than ordinary 
vehemence, "You can't imagine. Sir, what 'tis to 
have to do with a widow." Upon Pyrrhus his threat- 
ening afterwards to leave her, the Knight shook his 
head, and muttered to himself, "Ay, do if you can." 
This part dwelt so much upon my friend's imagina- 
tion, that at the close of the third act, as I was 
thinking of something else, he whispered in my ear, 
"These widows. Sir, are the most perverse creatures 
in the world. But pray," says he, "you that are a 
critic, is this play according to your dramatic rules, 
as you call them? Should j^our people in tragedy 
always talk to be understood ? Why, there is not a 
single sentence in this play that I do not know the 
meaning of." 

The fourth act very luckily begun before I had 
time to give the old gentleman an answer: "Well," 
says the Knight, sitting down with great satisfaction, 
"I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost." He 



SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY. 175 

then renewed liis attention, and, from time to time, 
fell a praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little 
mistake as to one of her pages, whom at his first en- 
tering he took for Astyanax ; but he quickly set himself 
right in that particular, though, at the same time, he 
owned he should have been very glad to have seen 
the little boy, "who," says he, "must needs be a 
very fine child by the account that is given of him." 
Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to 
Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loud clap, to which Sir 
Roger added, "On my word, a notable young bag- 
gage!" 

As there was a very remarkable silence and still- 
ness in the audience during the whole action, it was 
natural for them to take the opportunity of these 
intervals between the acts to express their opinion of 
the players and of their respective parts. Sir Roger 
hearing a cluster of them praise Orestes, struck in 
with them, and told them that he thought his friend 
Pylades was a very sensible man ; as they were after- 
wards applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a sec- 
ond time: "And let me tell you," says he, "though 
he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers 
as well as any of them." Captain Sentry seeing 
two or three wags, who sat near us, lean with an 
attentive ear towards Sir Roger, and fearing lest 
they should smoke the Knight, plucked him by the 
elbow, and w^hispered something in his ear, that lasted 
till the opening of the fifth act. The Knight was 
wonderfully attentive to the account which Orestes 
gives of Pyrrhus his death, and at the conclusion of 
it, told me it was such a bloody piece of work that 
he was glad it was not done upon the stage. Seeing 
afterwards Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more 



176 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

than ordinary serious, and took occasion to moralize 
(in his way) upon an evil conscience, adding, that 
Orestes, in his madness, looked as if he saw some- 
thing. 

As we were the first that came into the house, so 
we were the last that went out of it; being resolved 
to have a clear passage for our old friend, whom we 
did not care to venture among the jostling of the 
crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his 
entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodgings in 
the same manner that we brought him to the play- 
house; being highly pleased, for my own part, not 
only with the performance of the excellent piece 
which had been presented, but with the satisfaction 
which it had given to the good old man. 

XXXIII. WILL HONEYCOMB'S ADVENTURES. 

Torva lecpna lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam ; 
Florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella.^ 

Virgil, Eclogues, ii. 63, 64. 

As we were at the Club last night, I observed that 
my friend Sir Roger, contrary to his usual custom, 
sat very silent, and instead of minding what was said 
by the company, was whistling to himself in a very 
thoughtful mood, and playing with a cork. I jogged 
Sir Andrew Freeport, who sat between us; and as 
we were both observing him, we saw the Knight 
shake his head, and heard him say to himself, "A 
foolish woman! I can't believe it." Sir Andrew 
gave him a gentle pat upon the shoulder, and offered 
to lay him a bottle of wine that he was thinking of 

1. The savage Houess hunts the wolf ; the wolf the kid pursues ; 
And now the frisky kid seeks for the flowering clover. 



WILL HONEYCOMB'S ADVENTURES. 177 

the Widow. My old friend started, and recovering 
out of his brown study, told Sir Andrew that once in 
his life he had been in the right. In short, after 
some little hesitation, Sir Roger told us in the ful- 
ness of his heart, that he had just received a letter 
from his steward, which acquainted him that his old 
rival and antagonist in the county. Sir David Dun- 
drum, had been making a visit to the Widow. 
"However," says Sir Roger, "I can never think that 
she'll have a man that's half a year older than I 
am, and a noted Republican into the bargain." 

Will Honeycomb, who looks upon love as his par- 
ticular province, intermitting our friend with a jaunty 
laugh; "I thought. Knight," says he, "thou hadst 
lived long enough in the world not to pin thy hapjDi- 
ness upon one that is a woman and a widow. I 
think that without vanity I may j)retend to know 
as much of the female world as any man in Great 
Britain, though the chief of my knowledge consists 
in this, that they are not to be known." Will im- 
mediately, with his usual fluency, rambled into an 
account of his own amours. "I am now," says he, 
"upon the verge of fifty" (though, by the way, we 
all knew he was turned of threescore). "You may 
easily guess," continued Will, "that I have not lived 
so long in the world without having had some 
thoughts of settling in it, as the phrase is. To tell 
you truly, I have several times tried my fortune that 
way, though I can't much boast of my success. 

"I made my first addresses to a young lady in the 
country ; but when I thought things were pretty well 
drawing to a conclusion, her father happening to 
hear that I had formerly boarded with a surgeon, the 
old put forbid me his house, and wdthin a fortnight 



178 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

after married his daughter to a foxhimter in the 
neighborhood. 

"I made my next applications to a widow, and 
attacked her so briskly, that I thought myself within 
a fortnight of her. As I waited upon her one morn- 
ing, she told me that she intended to keep her ready 
money and jointure in her own hand, and desired me 
to call upon her attorney in Lyon's Inn, who would 
adjust with me what it was proper for me to add to 
it. I was so rebuffed by this overture, that I never 
inquired either for her or her attorney afterwards. 

" A few months after I addressed myself to a young 
lady who was an only daughter, and of a good family : 
I danced with her at several balls, squeezed her by 
the hand, said soft things to her, and, in short, made 
no doubt of her heart; and, though my fortune was 
not equal to hers, I was in hopes that her fond father 
would not deny her the man she had fixed her affec- 
tions upon. But as I went one day to the house in 
order to break the matter to him, I found the whole 
family in confusion, and heard, to my unspeakable 
surprise, that Miss Jenny was that very morning run 
away with the butler. 

"I then courted a second widow, and am at a loss 
to this day how I came to miss her, for she had often 
commended my person and behavior. Her maid, 
indeed, told me (me day that her mistress had said 
she never saw a gentleman with such a spindle pair 
of legs as Mr. Honeycomb. 

"After this I laid siege to four heiresses succes- 
sively, and being a handsome young dog in those 
days, quickly made a breach in their hearts; but I 
don't know how it came to pass, though I seldom 
failed of getting the daughters' consent, I could 
never in my life get the old people on my side. 



WILL HONEYCOMB'S ADVENTURES. 179 

"I could give you an account of a thousand other 
unsuccessful attempts, particularly of one which I 
made some years since upon an old woman, whom I 
had certainly borne away with flying colors, if her 
relations had not come pouring in to her assistance 
from all parts of England; nay, I believe I should 
have got her at last, had not she been carried off by 
an hard frost." 

As WilFs transitions are extremely quick, he 
turned from Sir Roger, and, applying himself to me, 
told me there was a passage in the book ^ I had con- 
sidered last Saturday, which deserved to be writ in 
letters of gold ; and taking out a pocket Milton, read 
the following lines, which are part of one of Adam's 
speeches to Eve after the fall : — 

Oh ! why did God, 
Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n 
With spirits masculine, create at last 
This novelty on earth, this fair defect 
Of Nature, and not fill the world at once 
With men, as angels, without feminine, 
Or find some other way to generate 
Mankind ? This mischief had not then befall'n, 
And more that shall befall ; innumerable 
Disturbances on earth through female snares. 
And straight conjunction with this sex : for either 
He never shall find out fit mate, but such 
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake : 
Or, whom he wishes most shall seldom gain, 
Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gain'd 
By a far worse ; or if she love, withheld 
By parents ; or his happiest choice too late 
Shall meet, already linkVl and wedlock bound 
To a fell adversary, his hate or shame ; 
Which infinite calamity shall cause 
To human life, and household peace confound.^ 

1. Addison had been and still was publishinof in The Spectator 
a series of detailed comment and criticism on Milton's Paradise 
Lost. He had just discussed Book x. 

2. Paradise Lost, x. 888-908. 



180 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

Sir Roger listened to this passage with great atten- 
tion, and desiring Mr. Honeycomb to fold down a 
leaf at the place, and lend him his book, the Knight 
put it up in his pocket, and told us that he would 
read over those verses aaain before he went to bed. 



XXXIV. SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN. 

Criminihus dehent Hortos ^ 

Juvenal, Satires, i. 75. 

As I was sitting in my chamber and thinking on a 
subject for my next ''Spectator," I heard two or three 
irregular bounces at my landlady's door, and upon 
the opening of it, a loud cheerful voice inquiring 
whether the philosopher was at home. The child wdio 
went to the door answered very innocently, that he 
did not lodge there. I immediately recollected that 
it was my good friend Sir Roger's voice ; and that I 
had promised to go with him on the water ^ to Spring 
Garden, in case it proved a good evening. The 
Knight put me in mind of my promise from the bot- 
tom of the staircase, but told me that if I was specu- 
lating he would stay below till I had done. Upon 
my coming down, I found all the children of the fam- 
ily got about my old friend, and my landlady herself, 
v/ho is a notable prating gossip, engaged in a confer- 
ence w^ith him, being mightily pleased with his strok- 
ing her little boy upon the head, and bidding him be 
a good child, and mind his book. 

1. They owe their g-ardens to vice. 

2. That is, by the Thames, which was a favorite way to more 
remote parts of the city. The Spring- Gardens was the name of 
a pleasure resort on the Surrey or south side of the Thames, 
later more famous under its name of Vauxhall. 



SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN. 181 

We were no sooner come to the Temple Stairs,^ but 
we were surrounded with a crowd of watermen, offer- 
ing us their respective services. Sir Roger, after 
having looked about him very attentively, spied one 
with a wooden leg, and immediately gave him orders 
to get his boat ready. As we were walking towards 
it, "You must know," says Sir Roger, "I never make 
use of anybody to row me, that has not either lost a 
leg or an arm. I would rather bate him a few 
strokes of his oar than not employ an honest man that 
has been wounded in the Queen's service. If I was a 
lord or a bishop, and kept a barge, I would not put 
a fellow in my livery that had not a wooden leg." 

My old friend, after having seated himself, and 
trimmed the boat with his coachman, who, being a 
very sober man, always serves for ballast on these oc- 
casions, we made the best of our way for Yauxhall.^ 
Sir Roger obliged the waterman to give us the history 
of his right leg, and hearing that he had left it at La 
Hogue,^ with many particulars which passed in that 
glorious action, the Knight, in the triumph of his 
heart, made several reflections on the greatness of the 
British nation; as, that one Englishman could beat 
three Frenchmen ; that we could never be in danger 
of Popery so long as we took care of our fleet ; that 
the Thames was the noblest river in Europe; that 
London Bridge was a greater piece of work than any 
of the seven wonders of the world : with many other 
honest prejudices which naturally cleave to the heart 
of a true Englishman. 

1. A landing on the Thames near the Temple. 

2. That is the bridge of that name. 

3. Twenty years before, May 19, 1692, the combined English 
and Dutch fleets had defeated the French at La Hogue, on the 
northwest coast of France. 



182 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

After some short pause, the old Knight turning 
about his head twice or thrice, to take a survey of this 
great Metropolis, bid me observe how thick the city 
was set with churches, and that there was scarce a 
single steeple on this side Temple Bar. "A most 
heathenish sight! " says Sir Eoger; "there is no reli- 
gion at this end of the town. The fifty new churches 
will very much mend the prospect; but church work 
is slow, church work is slow! " 

I do not remember I have anywhere mentioned, in 
Sir Roger's character, his custom of saluting every- 
body that passes by him with a good-morrow or a 
good-night. This the old man does out of the over- 
flowings of his humanity, though at the same time it 
renders him so popular among all his country neigh- 
bors, that it is thought to have gone a good way in 
making him once or twice knight of the shire. He 
cannot forbear this exercise of benevolence even in 
town, when he meets with any one in his morning or 
evening walk. It broke from him to several boats 
that passed by us upon the water; but to the Knight's 
great surprise, as he gave the good-night to two or 
three young fellows a little before our landing, one of 
them, instead of returning the civility asked us, what 
queer old put we had in the boat, with a great deal of 
the like Thames ribaldry. Sir Roger seemed a little 
shocked at first, but at length, assuming a face of 
magistracy, told us that if he were a Middlesex jus- 
tice, he would make such vagrants know that Her 
Majesty's subjects were no more to be abused by 
water than by land. 

We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is 
exquisitely pleasant at this time of year. When I 
considered the fragrancy of the walks and bowers. 



SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN. 183 

with the choirs of birds that sang upon the trees, and 
the loose tribe of people that walked under their 
shades, I could not but look upon the place as a kind 
of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put 
him in mind of a little coppice by his house in the 
country, which his chaplain used to call an aviary 
of nightingales. *'You must understand," says the 
Knight, "there is nothing in the world that pleases a 
man in love so much as your nightingale. Ah, Mr. 
Spectator! the many moonlight nights that I have 
walked by myself, and thought on the Widow by the 
music of the nightingales! " He here fetched a deep 
sigh, and was falling into a fit of musing, when a 
mask,^ who came behind him, gave him a gentle tap 
upon the shoulder, and asked him if he would drink 
a bottle of mead with her. But the Knight being 
startled at so unexpected a familiarity, and displeased 
to be interrupted in his thoughts of the Widow, told 
her she was a wanton baggage, and bid her go about 
her business. 

We concluded our walk with a glass of Burton ale 
and a slice of hung beef. When we had done eating 
ourselves, the Knight called a waiter to him, and bid 
him carry the remainder to the waterman that had 
but one leg. I perceived the fellow stared upon him 
at the oddness of the message, and was going to be 
saucy; upon which I ratified the Knight's commands 
with a peremptory look. 

1. A woman wearing a mask, a common appurtenance at the 
time. It has been refined down to a veil in these days. 



184 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 



XXXV. DEATH OF SIR EOGER DE COVERLEY.i 

Heu Pietas ! heu prisca Fides ! "^ 

Virgil, ^neid, vi. 878. 

We last night received a Piece of ill News at our 
Club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. 
I question not but my Readers themselves will be 
troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no 
longer in Suspence, Sir Roger de Covekley is 
dead.^ He departed this Life at his House in the 
Country, after a few Weeks Sickness. Sir Andrew 
Freeport has a Letter from one of his Correspon- 
dents in those Parts, that informs him the old Man 
caught a Cold at the County-Sessions, as he was very 
warmly promoting an Address of his own penning, in 
which he succeeded according to his Wishes. But 
this Particular comes from a Whig-Justice of Peace, 
who was always Sir Roger's Enemy and Antago- 
nist. I have Letters both from the Chaplain and 
Captain Sentry which mention nothing of it, but are 
filled with many Particulars to the Honour of the 
good old Man. I have likewise a Letter from the 
Butler, who took so much care of me last Summer 
when I was at the Knight's House. As my Friend 
the Butler mentions, in the Simplicity of his Heart, 
several Circumstances the others have passed over in 
Silence, I shall give my Reader a Copy of his Let- 
ter, without any Alteration or Diminution. 

1. As explained in the introduction, this number of The Spec- 
tator is reproduced with the spelling, italics, and capitalization 
originally used. 

2. Ah piety ! ah ancient faith ! 

3. The anticipated closing of The Spectator doubtless deter- 
mined Addison to put the good knight to death. Writers of the 
time assert that Addison feared the character might otherwise 
be adopted by some other writer. 



DEATH OF SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 185 

Honoured Sir, 

'Knowing that you was^ my old Master's good 
* Friend, I could not forbear sending you the melan- 
'choly News of his Death, which has afflicted the 
'whole Country, as well as his poor Servants, who 
'loved him, I may say, better than we did our Lives. 
'I am afraid he caught his Death the last County 
'Sessions, where he would go to see Justice done to a 
'poor Widow Woman, and her Fatherless Children, 
'that had been wronged by a neighbouring Gentle- 
'man; for you know, Sir, my good Master was al- 
'ways the poor Man's Friend. Upon his coming 
'home, the first Complaint he made was, that he had 
'lost his Roast-Beef Stomach, not being able to touch 
'a Sirloin, which was served up according to Custom; 
'and you know he used to take great Delight in it. 
'From that time forward he grew worse and worse, 
'but still kept a good Heart to the last. Indeed we 
'were once in great Hope of his Recovery, upon a 
'kind Message that was sent him from the Widow 
'Lady whom he had made love to the Forty last 
'Years of his Life; but this only proved a Light'ning 
'before Death. He has bequeathed to this Lady, as 
'a token of his Love, a great Pearl Necklace, and a 
'Couple of Silver Bracelets set with Jewels, which 
'belonged to my good old Lady his Mother: He has 
'bequeathed the fine white Gelding, that he used to 
'ride a hunting upon, to his Chaplain, because he 
'thought he would be kind to him, and has left you 
'all his Books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to 
'the Chaplain a very pretty Tenement with good 

1. Not necessarily to be referred to the butler's ignorance of 
good English, for the locution was common enough amongst well- 
educated men at this time. 



186 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

'Lands about it. It being a very cold Day when he 
'made his Will, he left for Mourning, to every Man 
'in the Parish, a great Frize-Coat, and to every 
'Woman a black Riding-hood. It was a most mov- 
'ing Sight to see him take leave of his poor Servants, 
'commending us all for our Fidelity, whilst we were 
'not able to speak a Word for weeping. As we 
'most of us are grown Gray -headed in our Dear 
'Master's Service, he has left us Pensions and Lega- 
'cies, which we may live very comfortably upon, the 
'remaining part of our Days. He has bequeath 'd a 
'great deal more in Charity, which is not yet come to 
'my Knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the 
'Parish, that he has left Mony to build a Steeple to 
'the Church; for he was heard to say some time ago, 
'that if he lived two Years longer, C overly Church 
'should have a Steeple to it. The Chaplain tells 
'every body that he made a very good End, and 
'never sjjeaks of him without Tears. He was bur- 
'ied, according to his own Directions, among the 
'Family of the Coveiiy's^ on the Left Hand of his 
'father Sir Arthur. The Coffin was carried by Six 
'of his Tenants, and the Pall held up by Six of the 
' Quorum: The whole Parish follow'd the Corps with 
'heavy Hearts, and in their Mourning Suits, the 
'Men in Frize, and the Women in Riding-Hoods. 
'Captain Sentry, my Master's Nephew, has taken 
'Possession of the Hall-House, and the whole Estate.^ 

1. Steele in The Spectator for November 24, 1712, makes a 
sort of postscript to this whole affair of Sir Roger by produ- 
cing a letter from Captain Sentry, written from Coverley Hall, 
Worcestershire, in which he says : " I am come to the succession 
of the estate of my honored kinsman, Sir Roger de Coverley ; 
and I assure you I find it no easy task to keep up the figure of 



DEATH OF SIR ROGER BE COVERLET. 187 

'AVhen my old Master saw liim a little before liis 
'Death, lie shook him by the Hand, and wished him 
Moy of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring 
'him only to make good Use of it, and to pay the 
'several Legacies, and the Gifts of Charity which he 
'told him he had left as Quitrents upon the Estate. 
'The Captain truly seems a courteous Man, though 
'he says but little. He makes much of those whom 
'my Master loved, and shows great Kindness to the 
'old House-dog, that you know my poor Master was 
'so fond of. It would have gone to your Heart to 
'have heard the Moans the dumb Creature made on 
'the Day of my Master's Death. He has ne'er joyed 
'himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the 
'melancholiest Day for the poor People that ever 
'hap23ened in Worcestershire. This being all from, 
Honoured Sh\ 
Your most /Sorrowfid Servant^ 

Edward Biscuit. 

'P. S. My Master desired, some Weeks before 
'he died, that a Book which comes up to you by the 

master of the fortune which was so handsomely enjoyed by that 
honest plain man. I cannot (with respect to the great obliga- 
tions I have, be it spoken) reflect upon his character, but I am 
confirmed in the truth which I have, I think, heard spoken at 
the club, to wit, that a man of a warm and well-disposed heart 
with a very small capacity, is highly superior in human society 
to him who with the greatest talents, is cold and languid in his 
affections. But alas ! why do I make a difficulty in speaking of 
my worthy ancestor's failings ? His little absurdities and inca- 
pacity for the conversation of the jjolitest men are dead with 
him, and his greater qualities are even now useful to him. I 
know not whether by naming those disabilities I do not enhance 
his merit, since he has left behind him a reputation in his coun- 
try which would be worth the pains of the wisest man's whole 
life to arrive at." 



188 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 

'Carrier should be given to Sir Andrew Freej)ort^ 
'in his Name.' 

This Letter, notwithstanding the poor Butler's 
Manner of writing it, gave us such an Idea of our 
good old Friend, that upon the reading of it there 
was not a dry Eye in the Club. Sir Andrew open- 
ing the Book, found it to be a Collection of Acts of 
Parliament. There was in particular the Act of 
Uniformity, with some Passages in it marked by Sir 
Hoger^s own Hand. Sir Andrew found that they 
related to two or three Points, which he had disputed 
with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the 
Club. Sir Andrew, who would have been merry at 
such an Incident on another Occasion, at the sight of 
the old Man's Hand-writing burst into Tears, and 
put the Book into his Pocket. Captain Sentry in- 
forms me, that the Knight has left Rings and Mourn- 
ing for every one in the Club. 



INDEX. 



Abbey, the ruins of the old, in Sir Roger's 
place, G2, G3. 

Ad lisoii, Joseph, the chief writer in The 
Spectator, viii ; the character of his 
work, viii, ix ; chronological table of 
his life, xii ; personated by the Spec- 
tator, 14 ; h\s care not to draw por- 
traits from life, 20 ; his important 
sliare in tlie Coverlsy papers, 45 ; letter 
to Wortlsy on his atfairs, 123 ; makes a 
study of Milton, 179 ; brings Sir Roger 
to his end, 184. 

.Elian, 1G9. 

-iE jculapius, the golden beard of, 171. 

MiO]}, 49. 

Animals, habits of, as disclosing design, 
108-112. 

Arable, Mrs. Bstty, 142. 

Arcadia, Pembroke's, 40. 

ArcheUus, father of Glanhyra, 66. 

AristoUe, 22. 

Artis Gymnast icce, 86. 

Astrcea, 40. 

Athens, scene at a play in, 33. 

Baker's Chronicle, 41, 161, 163. 
Barrow. Dr., 48; preaches at Coverley 

H -ill, 159. 
Bastile, the prisoner in the, who picked 

up pins, 87. 
Beards, Sir Roger discourses on, 168 ; 

Lucian on, 109 ; ^lian on, 169. 
Bjveridge, Willi im, 48. 
Biscuit, Edward ; see Butler, Sir Roger's. 
Blackmore, Sir Richard, 31. 
Bxlily exercise, 82-86. 
Breeding, good, in country and city, 103, 

104. 
Buckley, Mr., publisher of The Specta- 
tor, 19. 
Budgell, Eustace, helps Addison, 44 ; as 

an imitator of Addison, 92. 
B'irleigh, Lor 1, 165. 
B isby, Dr., 1G5. 
B ;tler. Sir Roger's, 46; writes to the 

Spectator concerning his master's end, 

185-188. 

Ciiro, Grand, 15. 
Cilaniv, Dr., 48. 
Cxptain, th° presuming, in the stage- 

co"ich, U3-145. 
Carthaginian faith discussed at the club, 



Cassandra, a French romance, 40. 

Castriot, George, 158. 

Cathedral, a, makes a city, 139. 

Catholic League, The, 127. 

Chaplain, Sir Roger's, 46, 47 ; his mode 
of preparing sermons, 48 ; description 
of Sir Rager as patron of the church, 
70 ; remembered by Sir Roger in his 
will, 185. 

Charles II., 21, 27. 

Child's coffee-house, 16. 

Chimney-sweeper's note, the, 154. 

Christmas at Civerley Hall, 160. 

Church of Englaal, 160. 

Cicero, quoted, 142. 

City, the English definition of a, 139. 

Clelia, 41. 

Cleopatra, a French romance, 40. 

Clergy, position of the country, in Addi- 
son's time and in Goldsmith's, 46. 

Clergyman, the, of the club, character- 
ized, 28; supports the Spectator's 
cause, 36. 

Closet of Rarities, A, quoted, 76. 

Club, the Spectator, 19; a meeting of 
the, 34-38. 

Cocoa-tree coffee-house, the, 16. 

Coffee-houses, 16. 

Committee, The, a play, 172. 

Coke, Sir Edward, 22. 

Cooper's note, characteristics of the, 155. 

Country life, a, in its relation to bodily 
exercise, 82 ; manners in, 103. 

Courant, The Daily, 19. 

Coverley E'jonomy, The, 77. 

Coverley Gho.st, Tlie, 62-67. 

Coverley Household, The, 49. 

Coverley Hunt, The, 87-93. 

Coverley Lineige, The, 58-62. 

Coverley Poultry, The, 107-112. 

Coverley, Sir Humphrey de, 61. 

Coverley, Sir Roger de, as a central fig- 
ure, ix ; his descent and residence, 
19 ; connected with the dance of same 
name, 20 ; characteristics of, 20, 21 ; 
relation to his servants and neighbors, 
22 ; hs views on men of fine parts, 
29-33; his strictures on the Specta- 
tor's writing, 3.5-37 ; writ'^s to Leonora 
tht-ough the Spectator, 38 ; describes 
Leonora to the Spectator, 42, 43 ; at 
his country house, 44 ; as a master, 
45 ; relations with his butler, 46 ; and 
his chaplain, 46, 47 ; relation of ser- 



190 



INDEX. 



vants to, 49 ; his views on subject of 
cast-oil' clothes, 50 ; his development 
of servants into tenants, 51 ; his treat- 
ment of their descendants, 52 ; his 
rescue from drowning, 52, 53 ; receives 
a fish and letter from Will Wimble, 
53, 54 ; his reception of Will Wimble, 
55 ; shows portraits of his ancestors to 
tlie Spectator, 58 ; tells of the haunted 
character of his house, 65 ; his church- 
mausliip, 68 ; his ways at church, 69 ; 
his treatment of parish matters, 70 ; 
his account of his love affair, 71-76 ; 
his love of the chase, 84 ; how his 
courtsliip affected it, 85 ; his exploits 
as hunter and fisherman, 87 ; his con- 
cern for the proper notes of his hounds, 
88 ; his hunt, 89 ; his treatment of a 
supposed witch, 95 ; discourses on tlie 
widow and love-making, 98, 99 ; wislies 
he could set her and Sir Andrew Free- 
port at each other, 102 ; is merry with 
the Spectator for his interest in poul- 
try, 107 ; ou good terms with every 
one, 112 ; acquaints the Spectator with 
the characters of his companions on 
the road, 113 ; gives a judicious opinion 
in a quarrel, 114; in the court, 114; 
his reception by the gentlemen of the 
county, 115 ; figures on a tavern sign, 
116 ; gives the Spectator an account 
of a young heir, 117 ; tells the story of 
how he found his way to St. Anne's 
Lane, 123, 124 ; his Tory prejudices, 
131 ; reads Dyer^s Letter aloud, 133 ; 
recounts his experience with gypsies, 
134 ; has his fortune told, 135 ; and 
liis pocket picked, 136 ; spares his own 
fields in hunting, 138 ; defends the 
Spectator, 140 ; has a controversy with 
Sir Andrew, 147 ; much disturbed in 
his sleep by the cries of London, 152 ; 
comes to town to see Prince Eugene, 
157 ; chides a beggar-man, 158 ; gives 
the news from Coverley Hall, 159 ; in- 
quires after Sir Andrew, 161 ; visits 
Westminster Abbey, 162 ; lodges in 
Norfolk Buildings, 168 ; discourses on 
beards, 168 ; his fear of the Mohocks, 
172 ; goes to the play with the Spec- 
tator and Captiin Sentry, 173; his 
conduct there, 174, 175 ; falls to think- 
ing again of the widow, 176 ; visits the 
Spectator at his lodgings, 180 ; goes 
with him on the Thames, 181 ; falls 
into talk witli the waterman, 181 ; 
comments on London, 182 ; is chaffed 
by other pleasure-seekers, 182 ; enjoys 
Spring Garden, 183 ; is reminded of j 
the widow, 183 ; details I'especting his ' 
denth, 184-188. 

Cowley, Abraham, 80, 81, 82, 119. 

" Crack," note on, 153. 

Cries of London, The, 152-157. 

Crotcliet, Ralph, letter from, on the cries 
of London, 153-157. 

Crows at prayer, 63. 

Culpepper's Nidiri/ery, 41. 



Cunningham, Peter, quoted, 30. 
Cyrus, The Grand, 40. 

Dawson, Bully, 21. 

Death of Sir Roger de Coverley, 184-188. 

DeQuincey, Thomas, quoted, 13. 

Design in nature, 108-112. 

Diodorus Siculus, 130. 

Distressed Mother, The, as seen by Sir 

Roger, 174-176. 
Dogs, the music of, 88. 
Dress, fashions in, in city and country, 

106. 
Drury Lane Theatre, 16, 24. * 

Dryden, John, 16 ; quoted, 38, 92, 133, 

140, 152, 157. 
Dumb-bells, 85. 
Dundrum, Sir David, paying attention 

to the widow, 177. 
D'Urfey, Thomas, 41. 
Dyers Letter, 133. 

"Economy," note on, 17. 

Econoujy, The Coverley, 77-82. 

Edward the Confessor, 166. 

Edward III., 166. 

Elaphyra, the story of, 66. 

Elizabeth, Queen, 167. 

Ephraim, tlie Quaker, 142 ; his reproval 

of the captain, 144 ; his care of the 

travelling party, 145. 
Essay, the, as treated by Addison and 

Steele, viii. 
"Esteemed," note on, 22. 
Etherege, Sir George, 21. 
Eudoxus, 118-123. 
Eugene, Prince, 158. 

Fielding's Joseph Andrews referred to, 
145. 

Fleetwood, Dr. WiUiam, 48. 

Florio and Leonilla, story of, 118-123. 

Fonvive, M., 16. 

" Freeman," note on, 153. 

Freeport, Sir Andrew, characterized, 
24, 25; on the Spectator's remarks 
concerning dress and equipage, 35, 37 ; 
reflections on the Coverley lineage, 61 ; 
Sir Roger would like to see him meet 
the widow in argument, 102 ; his Whig 
prejudices, 131 ; defends the character 
of merchants, 149-152 ; bets with Sir 
Roger, 176 ; hears by letter of Sir 
Roger's illness, 184 ; receives a parting 
gift from the knight, 188 ; is affected 
by his loss, 188. 

Fuller, Francis, 85. 

Game Act, 22, 

Ghibellines, 127. 

Ghost, The Coverley, 62-67. 

Gray's Inn, 22. 

Gray's Inn Walks, 158. 

Greaves, John, 15. 

Grecian coffee-house, the, 16. 

Guelphs, 127. 

Guise, Duke of, 127. 

Gules, Mr. Thomas, 54. 



INDEX. 



191 



Gymnastic exercises, So. 

Gypsies, a troop of, met by Sir Roger 
and tlie Spectator, 133 ; described by 
Sir Roger, 134 ; try tiieir arts on the 
pair, 135 ; discourse on, 13G. 

" Habit," note on, 27. 

Haymarket Theatre, 17. 

Head-dress, fasliions in, 107. 

Hen, instinct in the, 110, 111. 

Henri III. of France, 127. 

Henry IV. of England, W7. 

Henry V. of England, 167. 

Hogue, La, 181. 

Holiday, Susan, 100. 

Holland merchant, story of a, 136. 

Honeycomb, "Will, characterized, 26, 27 ; 
his strictures on tlie Spectator, 34, 37 ; 
letter from, 141 ; makes poetry out of 
theories of London, 152; his adven- 
tures, 176-180 ; brags of his gallantries, 
177. 

Horace, quoted, 13, 44, 58, 77, 117, 162, 
171. 

Howard, Sir Robert, 172. 

"Humorist," note on, 26. 

Hunting, Sir Roger's passion, for 84, 87 ; 
as followed at Coverley, 89-91. 

"Husband," note on, 51. 

" Impudent," note on, 144. 
Inns of Court, 22. 
Irus, Laertes and, story of, 79, 80. 
Iskander Bey, 158. 

Jacob's Pillar, 160. 

Jesuits, 140. 

Johnson, Samuel, quoted, 24 ; referred 

to, 167. 
Jonathan's, 17. 
Jonson, Ben, 26. 
Josephus, a story out of, 66. 
Juvenal, quoted, 19, 29, 34, 40, 82, 180. 

King's evil, touching for, 167. 
Knight's Head, The, 115. 

Laertes and Irus, the story of, 79, 80. 
La Ferte's Dances, 42. , 
Leonilla, Florio and, story of, 118-123. 
Leonora, a friend of Sir Roger, 38 ; her 

history and tastes, 42 ; her country 

.seat, 42, 43. 
Leonora's Library, 38. 
Leontine, 118-123. 
Library, Leonora's, 38-44. 
Lincoln's Inn, 22. 
Lincoln's Inn Fields, 30. 
Lineage, The Coverley, .58-02 
Little Britain, 19. 
Littleton, Sir Thomas, 22. 
Livery, as a badge of sei-vice, 51, 52. 
Livy, 147. 

Locke, John, 40; quoted, 64. 
London, The Cries of, 152-157 
London Bridge, 181. 
Longinus, 22. 
Love, Sir Roger in, 71-77 



Love-making, Sir Roger and, 97-102. 
Lovers, overlieard by Sir Roger and the 

Spectator, 99, 100. 
Lucian, 169. 

Lucretius on apparitions, 65, 66. 
Lyon's Inn, 178. 

Macaulay, Thomas Babingtou, quoted, 

Malbranche, Father, 40. 

Marlborough, Duke of, 158. 

Martial, quoted, 77. 

"Mask," note on, 183. 

Matthews, John, reprimanded in church, 
69. 

3Iedicina Gymnast ica, 85. 

Memoirs of P. P. quoted, 131. 

Men of Fine Parts, Sir Roger on, 29-33. 

Merchant, the character of the, de- 
fended, 149-152. 

Milk, the note in which it is cried, 154. 

Milton, treated by Addison, 179 ; quoted, 
179. 

Mirabel, Tom, 27. 

Mohocks, the, 172. 

Monmouth, Duke of, 27. 

Morley, Henry, editor of The Spectator, 
xi ; quoted, 88. 

Morocco, King of, 165. 

New Inn, 23. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, 40. 

Novel, rise of the, out of the essay, viii. 

"Novel, The," note on, 118. 

Old style and new style dates explained, 

vii. 
Otway, Thomas, quoted, 94. 
Ovid, quoted, 157. 

Paradise Lost, quoted, 179. 

Party spirit, the mischief done by, 124 ; 
its bitterness in England in the eigh- 
teenth century, with a suggested ex- 
planation, 125 ; its corruption of judg- 
ment, 126 ; illustrated in Italy and 
France, 127 ; an association to sup- 
press, 128, 129 ; more active in coun- 
try than in town, 130; illustrated by 
life at Sir Roger's, 131, 132. 

Pascal, Blaise, quoted, 91. 

Pepys''s Diary, quoted, 27. 

Phsedrus, quoted, 49, 53. 

Phillips, Ambrose, 171. 

" Pleasant," note on, 46. 

Plutarch, quoted, 125. 

Point, speaking to the, 18. 

Polite and Rustic Manners, 103-107. 

Pope's Procession, 161. 

Postman, The, 16. 

Poultry, The Coverley, 107-112. 

Publius Syrus, quoted, 112. 

Pythagoras, quoted, 67. 

Quaker, the, who was the Spectator's 

travelling companion, 142-147. 
Quevedo, Don, 169. 
Quickset, Squire, 142. 



192 



INDEX. 



Rochester, the Earl of, 21. 
Rooks at prayer, 63. 
Rose Tavern, The, 24. 
Russell, Elizabeth, 165. 
Russell Court, 23. 

Sacheverell, Dr. Henry, 41. 

St. Anne's Lane, 124. 

St. Asaph, Bishop of, 48, 

St. Jiinies's Coffee-house, 16. 

Salem Village, 97. 

Saracen's Head, 116. 

Sargent, John O., quoted, 44, 117. 

Saunderson, Bishop, 48. 

Scarecrow, the beggar, 30. 

Scrofula, touched for, 167. 

Scud^ri, Madame de, 40. 

Selden's Table Talk, quoted, 116. 

Seneca's Morals, 41. 

Sentry, Captain, characterized, 25, 26 ; 
nephew to Sir Roger, 25 ; joins in the 
club talk, 36, 37 ; tries to set Sir 
Roger and Sir Andrew even, 148 ; ac- 
companies Sir Roger and the Specta- 
tor to the play, 173 ; writes to tlie 
Spectator of Sir Roger's death, 184 ; 
takes possession of the Coverley es- 
tate, 186 ; writes to the Spectator of 
affairs at the hall, 186, 187. 

Servants, attitude of Sir Roger's to him, 
49-52. 

" Several," note on, 14. 

Shakespeare, quoted, 89, 147. 

Sherlock upon Death, 40. 

Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, 165. 

Sir Roger and Love-making, 97-102. 

Sir Roger and Party Spirit, 123-128. 

Sir Roger and Politics, 128-133. 

Sir Roger and Sir Andrew, 147-152. 

Sir Roger and the Gypsies, 133-137. 

Sir Roger at Spring Garden, 180-183. 

Sir Roger at the Play, 171-176. 

Sir Roger comes to Town, 157-162. 

Sir Roger in Westminster Abbey, 162- 
168. 

Sir Roger upon Beards, 168-171. 

Smyth, Piazzi, 15. 

Soho Square, 21. 

South, Robert, 48. 

Spectator, the, as a fictitious personage, 
13 ; suggested by Addison's tempera- 
ment, 14 ; visits Sir Roger's picture- 
gallery, 52 ; encounters Will Wimble, 
55 ; rejects on his weakness, 56, .57 ; 
looks at the portraits of Sir Roger, 58- 
62 ; walks among the ruins of an old 
abbey, 62, 63 ; sees the materials for a 
ghost, 64; goes to church with Sir 
Roger, 69 ; hears Sir Roger's love- 
story, 71-76 ; made complacent by his 
life at Sir Roger's, 81 ; exercises with 
dumb-bells, 85 ; used to fight with his 
shadow, 86 ; goes to hunt with Sir 
Roger, 89 ; is a looker-on, 90 ; encoun- 
ters the Coverley Witch, 94 ; passes 
much time among Sir Roger's poultry, 
107 ; goes to county assizes with Sir 
Roger, 113 ; his views on young heirs, 



118; proposes an association to put 
down party spirit, 128, 129 ; stares at 
one of Will Wimble's stories, 132 ; en- 
counters a troop of gypsies, 133 ; has 
his fortune told, 135 ; tells a story of a 
Holland merchant, 136 ; ends his visit 
at Coverley, 138 ; the character won 
by him, 139, 140 ; sets out for London, 
142 ; receives a visit from Sir Roger, 
157 ; goes with him to Westminster 
Abbey, 165 ; with Captain Sentry es- 
corts Sir Roger to the play, 173 ; sets 
out with Sir Roger for Sprmg Garden, 
181. 

Spectator's Return to London, The, 142- 
147. 

Spectator, The, character of, vii ; the 
essay in, viii ; Sir Roger de Coverley 
in, ix ; Morley's edition of, xi ; as a 
public censor, 34-38. 

Spectator Club, The, 19. 

Sprat, Dr. Thomas, 80. 

Spring Garden, Sir Roger at, 180-183. 

Spring Garden, beauties of, 182, 163. 

Squire's, Sir Roger smokes a pipe at, 
162. 

Steele, Richard, writes in The Spectator, 
viii ; character of his work, viii, ix ; 
chronological table of his life, xii ; his 
relation to the characters he drew, 
20 ; his Christian Hero, 41 ; his por- 
trait of Tliomas Gules, 54. 

Sunday, a, in the country, 67. 

Sunday at Sir Roger's, A, 67-71. 

" Supplement," note on, 162. 

Sydenham, Dr. Thomas, 85. 

Sydney, William Connor, work by, x ; 
quoted, 103. 

Tansy, what it is, 76. 

Tatler, The, quoted, 54. 

Taylor, Jeremy, 41. 

Templar, The, of the Club, character- 
ized, 22 ; upon the city as a subject 
for satire, 35. 

Temple, Inner and Middle, 22. 

Temple, Sir William, 40. 

Thackeray, William Makepeace, xi. 

Thames, boats on the, 181, 182. 

Theatre, hour for opening, 23. 

Tillotson, Arclibishop, 48. 

Tories, fellow-subjects not to be regarded 
as, 128. 

Tory headquarters, 16 ; party, 17. 

Tory party, represented by Sir Roger, 
24. 

Touchy, Tom, as described by Sir Roger, 
113; his dispute with WiU Wimble 
amicably settled, 114. 

Travel in a coach, 143. 

Travelling in England in eighteenth cen- 
tury, 103. 

Trueby's, Widow, water, 163. 

Tully for Cicero, 23. 

Urwin, William, 16. 
Vauxhall, 181. 



INDEX. 



193 



Virgil, quoted, 38, G3, 71, 86, 93, 97, 103, 
107, 123, 128, 133, 138, 147, 152, 176, 
184. 

Virgil, Ogilby's, 40. 

Watt, Powder, 156. 

Westminster Abbey, once a cathedral, 
139. 

Westminster Abbey, Sir Roger in, 162. 

Whig party repi-esented by Sir Andrew, 
24. 

Whig politicians, 16, 17. 

Whigs, fellow-subjects not to be re- 
garded as, 128. 

White, Moll, 95, 96, 139, 141 ; dies, 159. 

Widow, Sir Roger's perverse, 21 ; her 
treatment of the knight, 71-76 ; her 
accomplishments, 74, 75 ; her perverse- 
ness in its effect on Sir Roger's hunt- 
ing, 85 ; grove sacred to, 98 ; likened 
to Kate Willow, 101; Tom Touchy 
once went to law with her, 1 13 ; again 
disturbs Sir Roger's peace of mind, 
176 ; her association with nightingales, 
183 ; sends a kind message to Sir 



Roger, 185 ; receives a bequest from 
him, 185. 

Widow Trueby's water, 163. 

Willow, Kate, 100. 

WiU's Coftee-house, 16, 24. 

WQls, W. Henry, an editor of Sir Roger 
de Covei'ley papers, x ; quoted, 140, 
146. 

Wimble, Will, characterized, 22-24, 53; 
his letter to Sir Roger, 54 ; his char- 
acteristics, 55, 56 ; a type of younger 
sous, 57 ; politeness of, 105 ; travels 
with the Spectator and Sir Roger, 113, 
114 ; tells stories which make the 
Spectator stare, 132; fears the Spec- 
tator may have killed a man, 139 ; still 
busy over nothings, 159. 

" Wit," note on, 23. 

Witch, The Coverley, 93-97. 

Witch, a white, 139. 

Witchcraft, 93 ; the Spectator's cautious 
belief in, 94 ; in Salem ViUage, 97. 

Worcester, battle of, 62. 

Zoilus, his beard, 169. 



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